A Whiff of Competition
by izzo
Summary: A canon-inspired interpretation of the '99 season of the Quidditch League. Voldy's moldy, Katie's the Harpies' new wild card, Oliver's the heartthrob and star Keeper of Puddlemere. And team politics interfere with what could have been the easiest thing..
1. Offers

**A/N: So this is sort of like the REAL introduction to the story. I've decided to take a few liberties with regard to what Katie's been busy with since her Hogwarts days… You guys decide if you like it x**

**Chapter 1 – Offers**

_From the Desk of Lara Svityensky_

_General Manager_

_The Holyhead Harpies_

_Dear Ms. Katherine Bell,_

_Greetings! This letter may come as a surprise to you – then again it may not. My name is Lara, and I am the Manager of the Holyhead Harpies professional Quidditch team. You may recall that professional Quidditch teams annually sent scouts to attend your games at Hogwarts, and scoop up the best and the brightest to join them. (I believe that previously, Puddlemere United acquired two young men you may personally know – Roger Davies and Oliver Wood.) A scout of ours happened to be in the stands during your last match prior to your hospitalization in 1996. According to her, your style of playing and even your performance in previous years embody what we, the Holyhead Harpies, are all about. She told me I'd be a fool not to sign you as a reserve immediately. Many things have happened since then: your accident, of course; and the War, which of course momentarily stopped the Quidditch season. We are not without casualties: our valued Chaser, Joan Gafton, did not see the War's end. I shall not dwell on that, however. Seeing as it's all over, the Harpies are ready to start anew. It is my great pleasure to offer you a spot on our team as our Center Chaser._

_Many factors contribute to this decision of ours. However, I am not at liberty to divulge these details in this letter. I know for a fact that you have begun a career in the Muggle world, wearing their clothing and the like. I also have reason to believe that you may receive at least one other offer to play for another team, so I would like to speak with you in person regarding ours. I believe you would find our offer very attractive – we at Holyhead, more than any other team in the world, understand the needs of prime female athletes. Should you be interested, send back a note stating your availability to meet. My owl, Mercury, shall await your response._

_All the best,_

_Lara Svityensky  
><em>

From her parents' home in Muggle London, Katie quickly scanned the letter. She went through it again, disbelieving. Then she read it around six more times, just for good measure. It was only when Mercury, the screech owl that had delivered the message, pecked gently at her hand that she realized that it was not a dream: her favorite team, the Holyhead Harpies, were offering her a spot on their team. _"And another team may be offering me a spot, too! Not that I'd care."_

Katie was rightfully surprised – after her accident with the cursed necklace as well as the War against the Dark Forces, Quidditch as a career seemed out of the question. She and her family had been laying low in the Muggle world. Actually, the term "laying low" is not so accurate: her parents, both half bloods, still worked their Wizarding jobs. On the other hand, Katie was making a name for herself, modeling in Muggle magazines and shows. Yes, awkward Katie Bell had unexpectedly become a model. It was a happy accident that sprung from the Bells' decision to relocate to Muggle London in the wake of Katie's near-death experience.

Katie's fledgling modeling career began when she was out buying ice cream with her mother, Gladys. A rather flamboyant man had approached them as they crossed the street together. The pair, being well adjusted to Muggle society, recognized that he was very well dressed – at least, too well dressed to be straight. Their suspicions were confirmed as soon as he drawled out, "Oh, my Gucci. You have _the_ most gorge legs!"

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Bell asked incredulously. "That's my nineteen-year-old daughter you're speaking to! And who on earth is Goo-chee!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Raul Guido. You can call me _Miss_ Raul. I'm a talent scout for Elite, which is among the top modeling agencies in London, and Europe. Have you heard of it?"

Silence.

"Well, that's fine, that's fine," he brushed off the awkward atmosphere, turning on his winning smile. "Anyway, madam, I saw your lovely daughter from across the street, and of course these fabulous legs! I just had to come over and chat with her over a career in modeling."

Indeed, Katie had been wearing a relatively attention-grabbing outfit. In an airy tunic and short denim cutoffs, all 5 feet and 9 inches of her looked even longer. It helped quite a bit that she was still in fairly good shape from years of playing Quidditch.

"Modeling?" Katie raised her eyebrows.

"But she's so young!" exclaimed her mother.

"Yes," replied the scout enthusiastically. "We usually sign models – many younger than nineteen, mind you – with unique characteristics. You, my darling, have legs for miles. And that hair! So thick! And you have such wide, expressive eyes! Like an impala's!"

"Well, thanks, I guess," Katie blushed. She _did_ have something of a growth spurt…

Raul wasn't done. "Well don't be so surprised! I can spot good genes from a mile away. And you're just _magic_," his eyes twinkled, "waiting to happen. If you're interested in knowing, we send our models to pose for different fashion shoots. These may be for editorial or commercial work to be printed on magazines and the like. We also send them to walk in runway shows. It's a very exciting job, really, and the pay's quite good even if you just do it part time. What's your name again, sweetie? Katie, yes?"

"Oh! Um, it's Katie, Katie Bell. And this is my mother, Gladys," Katie stammered, although she did not recall previously telling him her name. Yes, she was pretty sure she hadn't. She frowned.

"It's very nice to meet you both," Raul said, shaking their hands. "Anyway, should you be interested, here's my card. Just give me a ring. Or, you know," he winked. "Send me an owl and we can work something out! I must get going. I hope to hear from you!"

With that, Raul turned around and nearly skipped away, disappearing amongst the throng of commuters.

"Well," chuckled Gladys Bell.

"Think that was for real?" grinned Katie, shaking her head.

"You lucky cow," suddenly breathed a Muggle girl from beside them, causing them to jump. "Don't you have any idea who that was?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Katie honestly. "Should I have recognized him?"

The girl, who appeared quite the fashionista, widened her eyes in shock, her perfectly painted lips forming the shape of a derisive "O". "That was Raul-fricking-Guido! Everyone knows that he's like, THE ticket into the fashion industry. He spots you and you're, like, in. He's super elusive, though. You'd be, like, a total retard not to take his offer," she sniffed bitterly, and after giving Katie a once over, she stomped away in her chunky platform heels.

Katie and her mother looked at each other for a good few seconds before bursting into laughter.

"Me, a model?" snorted Katie.

"Raul Guido better know what he's gotten himself into! I was flattered enough that he thought my daughter might possess an ounce of grace."

"Gee, thanks, Mum. And it's _Miss_ Raul. How do you reckon he knew we were witches?"

"Now that I think about it, the real question is how Muggles can't tell he's not a Muggle! Did you see that suit!"

"I think his outfit passes for gay standards, Mum."

"I suppose you're right."

And the rest, as they say, was history. Katie signed on with Miss Raul as a part-time model, and in turn, she was booked for several editorial shoots and fashion shows. While she was by no means the most prominent model in the bunch, she'd gained enough attention to be recognized by fashion fanatics in a matter of a few short months. It was definitely convenient that Raul was a wizard too – he understood that she had quite some adjusting to do. He made her work out hard so she'd fit into her high-fashion costumes, which Katie didn't mind, as long as she got to eat as much as she wanted. (Which she did.) His gamble on her paid off big time: Katie Bell – athletic, quirky, playful, and just the right amount of mysterious (to Muggles, at least) – was the quintessential girl next door. Women absolutely loved her, and straight men regarded her with much curiosity.

Back to the current situation, however, Katie was prepared to drop it all – modeling, the pretty hairdos and makeup ("Blech!"), a decent amount of Muggle fame, and freebies – and jump right back into her first love, Quidditch. It was more than just Quidditch: she'd really missed magic, as well as her friends back in the Wizarding World. Her schedule just didn't allow for very frequent visits. It was settled; she was going to do it.

Mercury gave a loud hoot, watching Katie curiously.

Without wasting another moment, Katie raced to her desk in search of a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she rummaged through her drawer. Mercury hooted complacently. It was as if she understood how important the letter she'd delivered was.

"How on earth do I even start this?" Katie frantically tested her quills on scratch pieces of parchment. She asked the owl, "Do I just… give a date? Should I think about it first?"

Mercury did not respond. Perhaps she was pretending not to hear.

"Fine." Katie took a deep breath. Grabbing the most decent quill she owned, she penned,

_Dear Ms. Svityensky,_

_Words cannot describe how ecstatic and excited I was to receive your letter. I wasn't expecting it at all!_

Katie promptly crumpled the parchment. "Be cool," she breathed frantically. Heart beating fast, she took another sheet and scribbled,

_Dear Ms. Svityensky,_

_Yes, I'm free pretty much whenever. When I'm not working part-time I just bum at my parents' place –_

"What's wrong with me!" she grunted, "She'll think I'm some unprofessional bum – well, I am a bum… Crap." Tearing up the parchment, she nervously considered what she ought to write. Finally she penned,

_Dear Ms. Svityensky,_

_Thank you for your letter. I've always been a huge fan of the Harpies, and I am honored that you would even consider taking me in to play for your team. I would love to meet you this week. Any day you can accommodate me will do, please just owl me your date and place of preference._

_Sincerely,_

_Katie Bell_

Before she could change her fickle mind, Katie secured the letter to Mercury's leg. Giving the owl a treat, she sent her off.

Katie plopped herself on her mattress and took a breath. "I'm going to be a professional Quidditch player." She got off her bed and screamed out loud, "I'M GOING TO BE A PROFESSIONAL QUIDDITCH PLAYER! MUM!"

She ran downstairs to her mother, who was in the kitchen preparing tea. "Mum! Mum! Guess who just wrote me!"

Her mother asked calmly, "Is it another go-see? A campaign, maybe?"

"No, this is way better. It has to do with Quidditch!"

"Oh! Is it that boy, Oliver? The handsome one? Isn't he the professional –"

"No, not Oliver," Katie blushed fiercely. "The Holyhead Harpies! They want me on their team!"

"Oh," repeated Mrs. Bell, disappointment evident in her voice.

Katie's face fell. "Aren't you proud of me? Mum, this is big!"

"Yes, of course, dear. I had just hoped you would finally go out on a date. What about that dangerous game? Queer-ditch?"

"Mum. They haven't called it that since like, the Middle Ages. It's Quidditch! And no, I am not going out on a date. Please, Mum, you can't rush these things!"

"That's all very good Katherine, but I can't help it! I married your father when I was your age, and I had you just a year after! I never had to work a day in my life, and my baby is telling me that she's going off to play a dangerous game for a living? Didn't you say that modeling was fun? Also, you said there were lots of free clothes! And cute male models! Maybe you should consider asking one of them out, if not that Oliver boy."

Katie rolled her eyes. For a witch of the hippie generation, her mother could be so stuck in the fifties sometimes. Katie had just told her the biggest news of her possible new career and her mother was worried about her not having a boyfriend?

"Mum. Times have changed. I don't have to wear those ridiculous heels all the time anymore. Girls have every right to play hard and earn their own money. And play against boys. Heck, girls have been playing Quidditch since _ever_, so it's not even an issue! And Quidditch isn't so bad when you've got wizard medicine on your side – Pop would understand. Maybe we can talk about it again later."

"I don't know, I just don't know. Even with magic, you took a good month and a half to fully recover from that curse… You're just lucky to be alive! I still get nervous about it." Mrs. Bell sipped her tea apprehensively.

"Aw, Mum, nothing could happen to me that would turn out as bad as that curse," Katie consoled her mother.

"You can't even go to the loo alone!"

"I wouldn't let that happen again, Mum. No more talking to strangers and no more touching sketchy things."

"Alright, sweetheart. Now, do try to get in touch with that lovely Oliver boy, will you?"

Katie narrowed her eyes at her. "_That lovely Oliver boy, indeed," _she thought.

Her mother had developed a very obvious crush on Oliver back when he'd been visiting at St. Mungo's, which no one asked him to do. It was sweet. Her mother? Not so much. She'd slip Oliver's name into conversations most unexpectedly, but Katie should have seen this one coming.

"I'm not saying you should ask him out," Mrs. Bell tittered, "Just that if he plays Quiddy, too, he could give you some advice!"

Katie considered it. "Mum, that's not a bad idea." She turned to walk back up the stairs.

"You're welcome, Katherine."

"And you totally know it's _Quidditch_."

"Yes of course, darling."

* * *

><p>Oliver Wood stepped out of the shower and toweled himself off quickly. His teammates had already gone home, each one exhausted to the bone. After all, practice had become increasingly brutal over the past few weeks. Perhaps it was because prior to the demise of Voldemort (which Oliver had the privilege of witnessing), all of Quidditch in Great Britain and Ireland had been put on hold for an entire season. Hence, every coach, player, and mascot in the league had been forced into idleness for the duration of what came to be known as the Great Quidditch Drought. Most of the players chose to go into hiding, and simply wait it out. Some individuals showed their true colors, joining the Dark Forces and causing devastation to their teams and their fans. Others, such as Oliver, went underground to aid the cause of Dumbledore's Army. Oliver willingly threw himself into the cause for several reasons, all somehow related to Quidditch:<p>

First, because the announcement of the Quidditch Drought devastated him exceedingly; second, because he (quite melodramatically) felt that without Quidditch, life may not be worth living; third, because he felt Voldemort was truly vile for causing the cancellation of Quidditch, and thus deserved to perish; and fourth, because many of his dear teammates, friends and schoolmates were involved in the mission to defeat Voldemort, and he wasn't going to be sitting pretty while they were all in harm's way.

No, that was the last thing he wanted. The year he'd made starting Keeper on Puddlemere was the same one that Katie Bell, his best friend and former Chaser, had been given a cursed necklace. Puddlemere's previous Keeper had resigned concurrent to this, so that meant that Oliver had to put in extra hours of practice to adjust from reserve status to first string. When he discovered that Katie was in St. Mungo's, however, he'd made it a point to stop by often after practice, and even resorted to flirting very awkwardly with the healers just to be allowed into Katie's hospital room past visiting hours. He'd been there when Katie woke up, and visited almost daily until she was discharged from the hospital. Since then they'd corresponded occasionally when big things would come up. They had by no means rekindled the brief romantic spark they shared at Hogwarts; times were much too hectic and dangerous for that. They hadn't even seen each other since Fred's funeral. It seemed their friends just needed time to recover, as did they.

Still, before this, Katie was the first to know when he'd been awarded Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Keeper in his first year as a starter. He'd also received important news regarding Dumbledore's Army firsthand from her. Later, she'd written to him about her modeling job in the Muggle world, although being a pureblooded wizard he understood little of what she was talking about.

At present, Oliver was happy that he and most of his friends got out of everything safe and alive. Voldemort was dead, Quidditch was back on, and training across all the teams in the league was in full swing to get their players back into top condition. The Quidditch Cup was in two months' time, and every bone in Oliver's body relished the ache that came from hours of playing Quidditch. He was a hundred and ten percent focused on getting back into shape and winning the Cup that narrowly eluded Puddlemere in the season previous.

Oliver finished getting dressed when he heard a familiar-sounding hoot. Stepping outside the locker room, he quickly spotted a heather grey barn owl staring at him inquisitively.

"Gwenog!" he cried with delight. He recognized the owl as Katie's (named, of course, after her favorite Quidditch icon, Gwenog Jones). "What have you got for me?"

Oliver untied the letter from Gwenog's leg and pored over its contents.

_Dear Ollie,_

_Three guesses as to what this letter's about. If you guessed that it has to do with me getting a job, then you're correct. If you guessed that it has to do with eating dinner, you're also correct. If you were hoping that it had something to do with Quidditch (which I bet you were), then you're in luck, because that would also be the case._

_Confused? Give up? Well, here it is… I'M GONNA BE A PRO QUIDDITCH PLAYER!_

_Yup, the general manager of the Harpies (__THE__ HARPIES!) wrote me just this morning to ask me to come in to discuss the conditions of my… employment? Is that how you'd describe it? I'm gonna be playing with Gwenog Jones! __THE__ GWENOG JONES! Explaining my owl's name may be awkward, though. Anyway the manager even said that another team wanted to pick me up, but I totally wouldn't care. I'm not passing up this chance to play with the Harpies to play for another team. Well, except maybe Puddlemere ;) I mean, Davies is there, that's never __not__ a good thing._

Oliver frowned at the sentence. Roger Davies made a good teammate, he'd admit that much. But he'd always known that Davies had a small thing for Katie, and that made him… mad? Jealous? _"Uncomfortable,"_ Oliver snarled. He continued reading.

_Oh, and then there's you._

"Much better," Oliver smiled, chuffed.

_Anyway, celebrate with me! Actually, I may just be using you to get tips for my interview. My current Muggle activities don't leave me fit to answer any questions about Quidditch… I have so much to share. Let's have dinner over at the Swinging Cheshire tomorrow? My treat! What do you say?_

_Owl me,_

_KT (Get it? K, that was lame.)_

_P.S. Mum says hello.  
><em>

Oliver grinned at the invitation, and walked over, Gwenog in tow, to his coach's office. "Hey Coach, mind if I come in?"

Coach Charles Nolan, a tough Englishman, looked up from his paperwork to see his Keeper standing in the doorway.

"Wood," he grunted in acknowledgement, "Yeh, come in. New pet?"

"This is Gwenog," Oliver chuckled. "She belongs to who may soon be the Harpies' new Chaser."

"Gwenog, good choice," nodded the coach. "The owl must belong to a real, die-hard fan then. You know her?"

"Yeah, she's a good friend of mine."

Oliver received a grunt in response.

"Say uh, Coach, are we picking up new reserves this season?"

"None that I know," replied Coach Nolan. "We're a full ark, if yeh know what I mean. An' that's a good thing. Davies is the only reserve moving to first string."

"Well… You reckon I could flich a piece of parchment and a quill?"

Coach Nolan handed Oliver the materials he requested, and the Keeper scribbled his note.

_Dear Kates,_

_Congratulations! I had a feeling this would happen! You couldn't possibly have stuck with that odd Muggle job of yours for long. Still, tell me everything tomorrow. Count on it, fancy girl, I'll meet you at the Swinging Cheshire at seven._

_Looking forward to seeing you (it's really been a while!),_

_Oliver_

_P.S. You? In Puddlemere with me? I don't think you could handle it. Just kidding._

_P.P.S. Hello to your Mum as well!_

Oliver chuckled to himself, attached his note to Gwenog, and watched her fly off. Coach Nolan observed his normally astute Keeper, disconcerted at his odd behavior. Wood was never this cheery around the team – normally he was the most focused, the most driven out of all the lads on the squad. "If you're quite done there," he warily told the Keeper, "Get that goofy grin off yer face. And get yer arse out o' my office."

Oliver jumped. "Sorry, Coach," he said good-naturedly. "Er, I'll be going now."

As he hopped out of the office, the coach hollered, "Wood! League's in a couple months. The looka that grin o' yers, I've never seen it on ya. Ya better keep yer distractions in check."

Oliver just kept walking, and hollered back, "I'll see you tomorrow, Coach, bright and early!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed that! What do you think of my awkward model Katie? Don't worry, I promise it won't eat up too much of the story at all. Leave me a review and let me know what you think :)**


	2. Appointments and Apartments

**A/N: VERY IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!**

**Okay, firstly, thank you to everyone that reviewed :) I wish you all would sign in though because I like replying! I was afraid that Model!Katie would not fly, but I guess since it's a minor detail (that I may be planning to have some fun with in the future), it shouldn't matter much.**

**Second thing – and this is the more important detail – this sequel is gonna follow canon to J.K.'s bonus release of the events that conspire in the '98-'99 season of the Quidditch League. This is something I've never seen across ships, so I'm gonna attempt it. Of course, the story's gonna be peppered with my own twists (Katie, for instance, isn't really supposed to be involved, is she?) so it's really all good. I promise to put on a good show so please stick with me!**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 2 – Appointments and Apartments<strong>

Katie shifted in her seat, uneasy. Due to her mother's uncanny owl-intercepting skills, she received no notice until she had been thrust into a dress and sent off happily to her "date with darling Oliver". That is to say, Gladys Bell had been able to read Oliver's note before Katie got to it, and was ecstatic over the prospect of her daughter going on a date (and with Oliver, no less).

"It's not a date, mum!" Katie had whined.

"Of course it's not, darling," tittered her mother, "But it never hurts to look presentable! Just like a go-see! You look lovely. Now, go! You're going to be late!"

Knowing that arguing would be useless, Katie unhappily Apparated away. By 6:58, she was sitting in the Swinging Cheshire, waiting for her former Captain to arrive.

At five past 7, Oliver still hadn't showed. Katie wondered what was keeping him – he was always criminally punctual. She lamely toyed with the idea that he'd stood her up, then from over her shoulder the maître d' cleared his throat.

"Mizz… Katie Bell?" he asked snootily.

"Um, yeah," Katie raised her eyebrows.

"Yeur pre_sance_ is requested in ze VIP room."

"Oh," she said, dazed. His accent was thicker than she expected. "By whom?"

"A premier cliahnt," he murmured coolly, "I am not at liberty to say 'iz name."

"Oh. Uh, okay then, lead the way!" Katie replied with false cheer. Once the maître d' turned his back, she followed him and made faces to his odious spiel.

"We 'ave quite a lot of cliahnts of great importahnce, you know," he bragged.

"_We 'aaaave quite eh laat of cliaaaahnts ov neener nanner nah," _Katie mocked him internally.

"Only ze most deestinct VIPs are privileged enough to dine in zis secleuded courrgner."

"_Blah blah blah,"_ Katie rolled her eyes. Trying hard to mask the disdain in her tone, she replied, "I'm barely important, I know, but –"

"Yeur appointmahnt is 'ere."

Katie frowned at his rudeness, but the lines on her forehead quickly vanished as she turned her head to see who had summoned her to the lounge.

"OLIVER!" Katie ran into the outstretched arms of her former Captain, who sported a smile equally bright as hers.

"Hey Kates," he laughed, clutching her tight. The maître d' sniffed in disapproval in the background. "You look…"

"I know, I know, it was mum's fault." Katie said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't interrupt, I was going to say you looked really pretty." Letting go of Katie, Oliver reached to pull out her chair.

"Why, thank you, Captain!"

"I doubt I'll be your favorite Captain for long," Oliver sighed, handing her a menu. "Congratulations, by the way. I had a feeling you'd be back in Quidditch."

"Nonsense!" Katie laughed, "Not even Gwenog Jones could beat you out for that prized title. And thanks, but don't assume. I like to think of it as a happy accident."

"Good to know," Oliver smiled. "So? Besides celebrating, what did you wanna talk about?"

"Always so straight to the point. How are you? Can't we just catch up for a second?"

"Sure we can, but how about ordering first, hmm?" Oliver waved his hand at a passing waiter, who approached their table. "Training's left me starved."

"I'll have the baked lobster with cheese. Oh, and a chicken parmigiana, please!" cried Katie, startling the waiter. She hadn't even opened the menu.

"Each dish is quite big, Miss, enough for two," he began.

"Yup! And I'll a big glass of iced tea, please."

"Very well, Miss. And the gentleman?"

Oliver laughed. "This one won't be able to finish all of that by herself."

"Oh, yes I can! You order your own food, Wood!" Katie retorted.

"Fine." Looking at the choices, he decided, "Uhh, I'll have a lemonade, and I'll take the steak, please, with chips on the side. Medium well, thanks."

Handing the menus back to the waiter, Oliver teased, "Appetite big as ever, I see."

"Yeah, and your taste has not gotten any more sophisticated. I'd think you'd go the medium rare route by now, famous boy."

"Nope, I'm crude through and through."

"You're cute," laughed Katie. Oliver blushed, sweeping his napkin onto his lap.

"Anyway," she added, "Don't you pros have these crazy health diets you have to stick to year round?"

"Yeah," admitted Oliver. "Still, we get to cheat now and then. You may as well enjoy it while you can. I hear the Harpies go on these crazy Trelawney-inspired diets…"

"Ugh, stop it! Patchouli burgers?" Katie shuddered. "I need my meat!"

"And you'll get it! Just… We gotta arrange some sneak-out sessions, okay, Bell?" Oliver whispered impishly. Katie found the grin on his face irresistible.

"Well look at you!" she teased, "Are you, the Quidditch Nazi himself, suggesting we break the rules?"

The two spent dinner chatting gaily over everything else that had nothing to do with Quidditch: Katie's parents, George's joke shop. Eventually the conversation transitioned to their both having missed out on the weird love triangle between George, Alicia and Angelina.

"It's so weird," Katie frowned. "I mean, we were so used to George and 'Licia just…"

"Snogging on the pitch?" suggested Oliver.

"Helpful. Yeah. Same with Fred and Ange. And now that Fred's gone…"

"Hey, I'm sure we'll understand it soon enough. They're some of our best friends! We could pay them a visit and it'll all be explained."

"Mmm," Katie murmured noncommittally. She scraped up the remainder of her chicken parmigiana. "Ol, do you ever feel like… Like you're alone a lot of the time?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, even back in Hogwarts we were all great friends but… Neither you nor I have someone our age to really call our 'best friend'. And everyone has someone, it seems. And I'd been so busy working that I didn't mind having no one to talk to. Or maybe I don't notice."

"You had me. You always have me, Kates," Oliver offered with a smile.

Katie smiled down at her empty plate. "I know."

"Now what's really bothering you?"

"Can you tell? 'Cause I don't really know. I feel like all the tiny things are suddenly just piling up. Shit's getting serious, know what I mean?"

"Might it have anything to do with your new job?"

"Maybe? I'm so excited, but scared at the same time. I don't know anybody in this industry, save for you and I guess Davies." Oliver frowned at this bit, but perked up when she said, "But he doesn't count. I'm not used to having no one back me up when it comes to Quidditch. Other things, yeah, but not this. How'd you go about your interview and everything anyway?"

Oliver glanced down at his empty plate, trying hard to suppress his grin. "I was the most embarrassing idiot," he admitted, shaking his head.

"Oh, do tell!" Katie visibly perked up.

"For starters," Oliver began, "I barged in there fully expecting to be assigned first string. I had no concept of a training pool, or of team hierarchy. I was so naff and eager! I just went up to the team manager and blabbed on and on about how I loved Quidditch and how I would make the best Keeper on the planet, basically. I made a right ponce of myself."

Katie rocked back and forth in her seat, roaring with laughter. "Captain! I can _so_ imagine you," she gasped, earning some disapproving glances from the older, snootier clients in the lounge.

"It is pretty funny. Even now Phil still makes fun of me for it. He thought I was mad! Cringe-worthy performance, that was and is why I dislike interviews. I never know when I'll say too much," Oliver's eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Phil?" Katie wiped a tear from her eye.

"Philbert. Philbert Deverill. Our team manager."

"Oh. Well, it couldn't have been so bad. You got into the reserves, didn't you?"

"And I was so disappointed, too. Kept banging my head against things until the first day of training when I learned that you really should start out as a reserve! See?" He pointed at his face and clucked. "Moron."

"Silly you," Katie laughed more gently, sipping the last of her iced tea.

"Hey, but you get the special treatment! You get to go straight to first string!"

"What if they don't like me?"

"They wrote you first and gave you details up front. Trust me, they want you. And if the industry accepted an idiot like myself, why wouldn't they take in a great girl like you?"

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks Ollie," Katie smiled, reassured.

"In honor of your joining the likes of a professional such as myself, I shall foot the bill for dinner!"

"What! No, I invited! Hold up –"

"And we are going to my place for a drink!"

Oliver tuned out to Katie's cries of indignation, swiftly signing the tab, pulling Katie out the side door and Apparating them both to the alleyway of what Katie presumed to be his building.

"Wow," Katie marveled. "This is some alleyway."

"What of it?" asked Oliver, as if the alley were no different from any other. "It's our landing pad of sorts, the boys and me."

"It's so clean! And so wide! What neighborhood is this?"

"Oh! It's where the Puddlemere boys and I stay during our downtime. Muggles can't see it any better than they can see Hogwarts, and magic folk need to be authorized. You're with me, so, yeah. And this," Oliver gestured to the immaculate slate gray building, "Is where my flat is located. Welcome to Puddlemere Tower."

"Puddlemere… What!" Katie had very little time to ogle as Oliver quickly ushered her into a lift.

"Gold gilding… That's crazy. And kind of over-the-top. And you live here for free?" she let her eyes roam.

"One of the hidden job perks," he said sheepishly, pressing the button to go up. "They don't advertise this in the job description. Lots of teams have compounds like this, you know, to keep their single players from cavorting around Britain unmonitored. Kind of restrictive, but we choose whether we want to stay here or not. I chose to stay here because it's really the most convenient thing. I get up, train, I go out, come home… The paparazzi can't bother us here. And I don't mind the monitoring much. But sorry, that's why I had to rush you in like that – if any of my teammates or anyone else sees me bringing a girl into the building, that'll be no good for me at practice tomorrow."

"It's cool. But what does that mean? A no-girls policy or something?"

"Not really, it's just that it's crunch time. Usually Isadora, our only girl, goes home to her place two floors above me. Then the boys like to go out, grab a pint and maybe a girl to take home… Not my thing. Just now I shouldn't even be out so late because of dawn practice. Luckily Coach wants us in at 8 tomorrow, instead of 4 a.m."

"You," Katie gasped, "Dreading dawn practice? Unheard of! Is this your floor?" she felt the elevator come to a stop.

"Fourteenth floor. Yup, this is me!"

Katie fully expected to run into the hallway, so she was shocked to discover that the lift opened into an actual flat. In the darkness she could make out worn brown leather couches and warm wooden accents, offset by clean lines and more modern, bachelor-friendly pieces. Even with the lights off there was no mistaking who owned the place.

"Can anyone just… enter here?" Katie stepped inside tentatively.

"No, just me. If others want to come in, they have to ring the doorbell, of course!" Oliver took her coat and flipped a switch on. The flat illuminated instantly.

"Oliver!" Katie clapped, delighted. "Everything is so… _you_! All eclectic Scotsman in the city and all that. But wait…"

"What's the matter!" he cried.

"Apart from a fire, I'm only looking for the – oh! There they are: the tartan shawl and the buck's head. Why are they hidden behind the couch?"

"I told my mum I had my own place and she barged in to decorate, okay?" Oliver blushed to the tips of his ears. "It reminded me so much of home that I didn't mind it. Well, most of it. Does my pad offend?"

"Awful? Ol, I love it!" Katie snuggled into an overstuffed couch. "Oh, and it smells just like you too. Leathery and warm."

Katie took in her surroundings – years ago she only could have dreamt of visiting Oliver at his place, and hanging out with him alone. Their brief romantic interlude in her fourth and his seventh year at Hogwarts had gone unmentioned until the present, but it was fresh in Katie's mind. She assumed that Oliver had forgotten all about it, so it seemed pointless to bring it up. She didn't want him thinking that she hadn't forgotten.

Oliver waved his wand and a fire lit up by the mantle. "Thanks, I guess," he chuckled, setting himself down next to her. "Okay, time for a toast of sorts!"

He conjured two paper shot glasses, into which he poured copious amounts of Firewhiskey.

"Real classy, Oliver. This is way too much!" Katie gaped at the amount of alcohol in the cup he'd handed her.

"Nonsense! I use paper because I can just throw them afterwards – "

"I meant the contents, not the cups," Katie slapped him lightly. "Does one even take Ogden's in shots?"

"Oh! Well, big events call for big shots! We finish all of it!" he declared.

"Fine," she sighed. "Just a couple."

"To you," said Oliver sincerely, "And to your happy future in Quidditch. May we not regret this in the morning."

"Cheers, Cap'n!"

Somehow Katie and Oliver managed to down several big shots of Firewhiskey each, on account of their toasting to numerous silly things. No more than thirty minutes later, they were both sitting on the floor, separately rolling around like Ron Weasley on love potion.

"Aaaahh! My throat still burns! The world is spinning so fast," Katie gasped, face on the floor.

"This was a bad idea, Bell," Oliver hiccuped. "I have practice at 8 in the morning! I may not wake up if we take more."

"This is so funny! This was your idea. And besides, you can't get drunk. You're much bigger than I am! We should do this every week!"

"No, no thank you, Kates. Much as I love… seeing you, drinking that often is considered a vice in m-most countries. We took those shots too fast, now they've gone… _hic! _Gone straight to my head. I don't think I can play in this state."

"Maybe," giggled Katie, "We can hang out without the alcohol." She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if she were sharing a scandalous secret.

"Yeah, and not too late either, 'cause we'd both have practice in the morning. Urghhh, this is a bad hit." Oliver turned to lie face down on the floor.

"Well, it's only…" she glanced at the clock, "10 p.m.! Who gets drunk at this time anyway! Plenty of time to recover."

"Shh – shh, shh," managed Oliver, "My teammates live above and – and… _hic!_ Below me, I think?"

"Oooh, what would they think!" Katie laughed flirtatiously. "Oliver Wood, playboy extraordinaire!"

"Hey, hey," he said, seriousness infiltrating his tone of voice. "I don't bring slatternly women around here. I only like the good sort. The decent sort. The kind… the kind – "

"The kind you can take home to your mum?" Katie lay down beside him, staring at his face. It made her dizzier than she already was.

Oliver hesitated a beat, looking back at her. "Yeah," he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut.

"So… do I qualify?" she whispered, almost to herself.

"Hmm?" Oliver said.

"Nothing."

"HOOT."

"Hmm?" he repeated.

"Oliver, did you hear that?" Katie propped herself up, puzzled.

"No, I thought for a… second it was you."

"Erm, do you owl an owl? Own an owl?"

"No, I use… Puddlemere Squad Owls…"

Oliver's eyes were closing. He never could hold his liquor well, and this time was no exception. Shortly he would be much worse before he'd get better. Katie sat up, determined to find the owl they'd heard. Looking towards Oliver's broad window, her eyes broadened to find Lara Svityensky's owl perched on the open pane.

"Mercury!" Katie yelled, a little too loud. "Oliver, get up! It's my owl! I mean… the Harpies' owl! For me!"

Oliver struggled to pry his eyes open. At this point, he was having difficulty stringing his words together, his brogue getting thicker exponentially. "What does it want? Treat? Tin can. There."

Mercury shot disapproving glances at the two, which made Katie cringe. She approached with caution, begging the owl, "Please don't tell your owner I was here. Or that I had a little too much to drink…"

"Hoot." The owl ruffled its feathers, making Katie feel discomfited.

Katie took the note from Mercury's leg, unrolled it and read:

* * *

><p><em>From the Desk of Lara Svityensky<em>

_General Manager_

_The Holyhead Harpies_

_Dear Ms. Katherine Bell,_

_It's good to hear from you. I apologize for writing this late in the evening, and so informally too – I would like to meet with you as soon as possible. With the Quidditch League beginning soon, the Harpies require a full roster of players to fill our ranks._

_How does lunch at noon tomorrow sound? Should you agree, Mercury has a pouch attached to her leg. Inside is a Portkey – a miniature Snitch. It will take you to our grounds._

_Please send a note to confirm your attendance._

_Best regards,_

_Lara_

* * *

><p>To say Katie's world was spinning was quite an understatement – she was reeling from the effects of the Firewhiskey and the letter combined. She got up from the trophy she didn't realize she was sitting on ("Oops!"), whispered "Un minuto, por favor," to a baffled Mercury, and stumbled over to where Oliver had nearly passed out on the floor.<p>

"Quill! Ol, please!" she begged, but the Keeper was planted face first on the white carpet.

Oliver waved his arm vaguely in the direction of a nearby side table. Katie yanked the drawer open, crinkling her nose in disdain upon seeing what was inside.

"Oliver Wood, what in Merlin's name are these awful magazines? Disappointing… _'Quipment Quarterly – Your Extensive Guide to the Season's Best Broom- and Accessory-Cleaning Polishes and Wipes_? What sort of grandpa reads _THIS_? Why does this even qualify as a publication?"

Turning his head sideways to breathe, Oliver snorted, "Sorry, Kates. I take my maintenance very seriously. Lots of equipment to take care of… Gloves and the like…"

"Ridiculous!" Katie shuddered. In the recesses of her inebriated head, she was grateful she hadn't found a copy of _Warlock's Quarterly_ instead. Oliver would never be into the whole men's magazine scene, especially not those with slags plastered on the cover. Even so, she knew it was only because he was obsessed with something else – Quidditch. "Uh. _Accio quill! Accio parchment!"_

Oliver's writing materials haphazardly flew out from what appeared to be his study. They zoomed past Katie's outstretched arms and clattered against the wall behind her.

"So drunk, can't do this right now," Katie blinked. She couldn't even catch the items she'd summoned. Picking them up, she plopped down on the sofa to write.

"Ink…" she groaned. Spying that Oliver's quill had the tiniest bit of ink remaining inside, she took a gamble and scrawled,

_OK_

The ink was barely enough. The two letters looked ridiculous on the parchment, which was around twenty inches long. That she had written them smack in the middle of the page didn't help matters either.

"It'll have to do," Katie thought. She messily rolled the parchment up and tied it to the owl's leg. Then she took the pouch containing the Portkey, and stuffed it into her bra. "Thanks, girl. Snack before you go?"

Mercury gave an indignant huff and flew off before Katie could reach for the tin.

"I'm sorry!" Katie called after her.

"Shhhhh," Oliver reminded her. He had managed to prop himself up against his sofa, although he wasn't looking so awake.

"Right. Sorry, Ol. Sorry, sorry, sorry. My interview's tomorrow. At noon. I should go home…"

"Can't. Apparate. Too much Firewhiskey. You too, don't," he panted. "Floo your mum. Stay."

"I'm so dead," Katie drawled.

But Oliver was serious. He grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye – no small feat given how dizzy as he was. Katie felt goosebumps – the good kind – rise up on her arm. "Stay. Please," he implored.

Katie knew better than to argue, or to try and go home by any means, Muggle or magic. Staying really was the safest option. Nodding at Oliver, she hesitantly pulled away and crawled towards his fireplace. Beside it was a bowl of Floo powder. Katie took a handful and tossed it into the flames. They sparked blue, indicating that Oliver's line was a private one. _"Fancy. No Flooing away,"_ she supposed, _"Just calls."_

Gathering every ounce of consciousness she had, she stuck her head in the flames and shouted her parents' address. She crossed her fingers that she hadn't blurted some incoherent phrase, and luckily she hadn't. Opening her eyes, she recognized her parents' living room.

"Mum! Mum! I'm at the fireplace! Floo with me!"

"Oh, heavens! Katie, is that you?" Her mother came rushing in from the next room, half of her hair in rollers. "I was just getting ready for bed. Where are you, darling?"

"Don't kill me, Mum, but I'm at Oliver's." Katie felt Oliver really stirring behind her. He was probably over his groggy phase by now – his numerous drunken mood swings were always short-lived and harmless.

"Oliver's! Young lady you keep your legs together or your father is going to – "

"MUM! Ol's right here!" Katie hissed. "Besides, it's not like that. I, uh, had a bit much to drink, and so did Ollie. We figured it wouldn't be wise to Apparate 'cause we might Splinch ourselves. I can't even Floo home, I think – this line's private."

"Oh, in that case, do say hello. I guess I can't do anything about your situation now. Dear Oliver will keep you safe, I'm sure. But what will I tell your father!"

Katie was astounded at how sensible her mother thought Dear Oliver was.

"Aw, Dad's probably gonna flip. You can think of something! Anyway, I have a lunch meeting tomorrow with the Harpies, so I'll have to be home to get ready. I'll try to make it back as soon as I can, okay?"

"Take care, my darling."

"I will, Mum. Good night, I love you."

"Love you too."

"Love you too, Mrs. Bell!" called Oliver, his arm flailing in a vague hello.

"Oh! Is that Oliver? Tell him I said – "

"Bye, Mum!" Katie hurriedly dropped the connection, pulling her head out of the flames.

She turned and marched towards Oliver, her hands on her hips. He sat on the couch with his palm over his eyes, giggling to himself. "Well, you got your wish. I'm stuck here for the night. And my mother loves you, you flirt."

He laughed some more in response.

"You think that was funny, hmm?" she asked.

"No," he snickered.

"No?" challenged Katie, taking a couple of jabs at his ribs. "How bout now?"

"Stop! Stop it Kates," Oliver guffawed. "I'm ticklish!"

"I know! GRAAAAHH!" Katie jumped over him, reaching for his armpits and ribcage to little success. Oliver easily overpowered her, wrapping his long, sinewed form around her body.

"HA! Oh no you don't!" he cried, digging his fingers into her sides in an all-out attack.

"No!" Katie struggled, "NO! Ha ha hahahaha Oliver please!" She keeled over, trying to protect her vulnerable spots from Oliver's tickle frenzy.

Finally the pair collapsed on the plush carpet, out of breath and woozy.

"Still hit?" Oliver asked after a time. "Because I think all this exercise killed quite a lot of my buzz. I'm in a very good mood, though."

"The news… my mother… the tickling… Yeah I'm good. Still dizzy though, I may still be drunk." They went silent, and stared at one another. Katie took a good look at him – she had almost forgotten just how handsome he really was. The three years had really done him good: in the firelight she could see how his tan skin and light stubble gave a manlier look to his face. Katie knew that his lopsided smile, charming as ever, was more real at that moment than it ever looked in those magazines like Witch Weekly. She grinned to herself. Those other witches were really missing out, because when Oliver genuinely smiled, his eyes and his perfect nose crinkled up just the tiniest bit, and her heart would melt just the tiniest bit.

"Come on." Oliver, oblivious to her thoughts, hoisted her up and led her to the portion of his flat that Katie had still never seen.

"This is my room," he announced, letting Katie peek inside. "You can crash here for the night."

"But… where will you stay?" Katie asked tentatively. She looked about his room: It was a rich shade of Puddlemere blue, decked with wooden shelving for all of Oliver's trophies, Quidditch books and memorabilia. In the center was a California King bed covered with a Gryffindor duvet. It was more than big enough for the both of them. "Are we gonna share the bed? I don't mind."

"You sat on my couch, right? Trust me, I'm good. Most game nights I don't even make it to my room."

"Well, why don't I stay there instead?"

"Nonsense! You're a guest. And guests get special treatment!"

"I feel so special now," Katie kidded. "Gryffindor sheets and everything!"

Oliver winked at her. "Only the best for my Kates," he said.

Katie blushed, and Oliver cleared his throat. "Well then," he finished, "should we call it a night? Big interview's tomorrow."

"Hmm," Katie said, "maybe after dessert?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh Lord. 13 pages on Word! But how did you all find it? The concept of a Puddlemere compound was really new to me (as opposed to how Oliver usually just has his own standalone flat), so I hope I did it justice. Please do let me know with a review. This is the first story I'm writing that's gonna be this long so every review means so, so much to me.**


	3. Morning Matters

**A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for the wonderful reviews I received over the last couple weeks, as well as the many PMs I got to exchange with you guys :) I love hearing your feedback and discussing stuff with you all, so keep it coming!**

**Also, I suddenly have a LOT of free time, so expect regular updates! :)**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 3 – Morning Matters<strong>

Katie and Oliver had called it a night at around 11:30, but they probably did not anticipate that they'd spend the remainder of the evening chatting. After they had dessert (fresh fruits, thanks to Oliver's preseason diet), they wound up lying side by side on Oliver's bed. Katie teased him some more over his Gryffindor duvet ("Hey! It has sentimental value!"); Oliver ribbed her for her odd new hair color ("What is this, anyway? Why does your hair have to have two different colors?" "Never you mind, Oliver Wood. This was just for a shoot, okay? And they're _strawberry blonde_ highlights." "Ooh, sounds serious." "I hate them, too."). Before they knew it, it was 2 in the morning and they'd both fallen asleep on Oliver's bed.

Katie woke up disoriented. What happened last night again? What was she doing in Oliver's room? With a gasp, Katie pulled the sheets off her body. Merlin be thanked, she was still fully clothed. Feeling a little foolish for even considering it, she mused that Oliver would never take advantage of her that way. She didn't even remember him doing anything remotely untoward, and they weren't even _that_ drunk.

"_He doesn't even think of me that way anymore…"_ she thought wistfully. She then looked at the alarm clock beside the bed – 7:00 a.m. Pulling the sheets back over herself, she snuggled deeper into Oliver's pillows and reveled in their smell.

Katie had to admit that she never did get over how good Oliver smelled. He was, without contest, the best-smelling boy – no, person – she'd ever had the privilege of knowing. She drifted back to sleep, imagining (or so she thought) the sound of someone taking a shower nearby – behind the door she was facing, perhaps. "Mmmmmmm."

Sure enough, Oliver was that someone showering in the next room. He had gotten up half an hour before Katie did, and after prepping some breakfast had hopped into the shower. He was a stickler for hygiene: it was a habit for him to shower both before and after practice. "To keep the sweat fresh," he'd always explained, although very few people really noticed.

Oliver was bending over the sink, shaving. His five-o'-clock shadow had gotten too… well, shadowy for his liking, and shaving to him was a sacred ritual only second in importance to his pre-practice showers. He did it the Muggle way, and thought of it as an opportunity to meditate and clear his mind for the day to come. Only today, he seemed incapable of doing either.

"_Katie Bell is in my bed,"_ he breathed, heart pounding with realization. _"Katie Bell is asleep in my bed."_

Although he was in love with the game of Quidditch, Oliver himself was not one for games of any other sort. So the thought of Katie being so close to him sent him reeling. He had always liked Katie as more than a friend, but lately he felt no such reciprocation on her part. It was as if their little interlude back at Hogwarts never happened.

_"Nothing even really happened,"_ Oliver chided himself. "It was a few kisses and then nothing. And that was four years ago."

A voice in the back of his head said, _"But isn't that the reason you're so anal about showering all the time? Look at yourself. You spent an extra five minutes in the shower."_

"Shut up," Oliver said out loud, startling himself. "Ow! Damn."

He had nicked himself with a sharp flick of the razor. Oliver sighed heavily and cleaned it up. Looking into the mirror, he mumbled, "This is like starting all over again. Friends. Friend zone. _Friends._" He'd have a chance eventually, right? Maybe?

Towel slung low on his hips, he cautiously poked his head through the door and into his bedroom. Katie appeared to be sound asleep, just as he'd left her.

"Katie?" he checked. No response. _"Safe." _Readjusting his towel for good measure, he opened the door and tiptoed towards his dresser.

Of course, Katie chose that moment to get up for real. She sat up, rubbed her face and opened her eyes to the sight of Oliver just beginning to pull his towel off.

"CAPTAIN!" she gasped, causing Oliver to jump around.

"K-KATIE! ERM, G-GOOD MORNING!" he staggered backwards, clutching his towel fast.

Mortified, Katie covered up in Oliver's Gryffindor duvet, clamping her eyes shut just to be sure. "But you called my name!" she screamed.

"I was just checking that you were asleep!" Oliver screamed back in panic.

"I didn't see anything! I swear it!" she cried.

"N-no, I believe you, Kates, it's - it's my fault!" he stammered.

"Just… just your abs!"

"I'm… sorry?"

They paused for a breath before dissolving into laughter – Katie's body shook from underneath the sheets and Oliver clutched his dresser (and his towel, of course) for dear life.

"I'm really sorry, Oliver," Katie laughed in a muffled tone, trying to divert from her obvious verbal diarrhea. "I had no idea. I am so embarrassed!" And she was very much embarrassed – from beneath the duvet, she thanked Merlin that Oliver couldn't see her flushed face.

"No, I'm sorry. I should have brought a change of clothes with me to the bathroom." Oliver graciously overlooked the glaring fact that she'd mentioned his torso, but allowed himself a satisfied little grin. Though he honestly hadn't meant for her to see anything, he couldn't help but feel a bit giddy that she'd noticed. (After all, he _did_ put a lot of hard work into his body, by necessity and commitment to his sport.) Bless him, his ears went a little pink.

"Could you just hurry a little? It's getting pretty stuffy under here, what with me hyperventilating and all that good stuff."

"Uh, sure. Anyway you can come out in a second, I'm kind of decent."

"Oka– whoa!" Katie pulled her head out from beneath the duvet, only to be greeted by Oliver's boxer brief-covered bum.

"I said _in a second_! Are you that excited to see me naked, Bell?" Oliver laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He was in the midst of pulling his khaki training breeches on.

"Well, _Wood_, you also said you were decent! And no, you put those buns away!" Katie felt herself blushing harder, although she knew that behind Oliver's bravado he was actually quite embarrassed.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore," he said, effectively ending any argument. Silently he pulled a crisp blue training sweater over his torso. Katie pretended as if she weren't watching from the corner of her eye.

"…This is kinda awkward," Katie eventually concluded.

"Let's just have breakfast, shall we?"

Before Katie could nod her head, she was hit in the face by something soft – another one of Oliver's training sweaters. "Mornings are kind of chilly here, so you might want to pull that over your head."

"O-okay… Thanks, Ollie." she slipped it on, nearly swooning over its smell. As she poked her head through it, she put on her best poker face and followed Oliver out to the kitchen.

"You look like a right ponce," she proclaimed jauntily. "Look at you in your uniform. You could pass for a Muggle horse jockey, if you weren't so built."

"A what?" He asked. And then, "So I'm built, now, hmm?"

"Never mind. I'd best get going, anyway."

"Not until you've had breakfast," Oliver insisted. Of course, his idea of breakfast was impossibly different from Katie's. He served up porridge, muesli and fresh fruits, together with skim milk and some coffee.

"Where's the bacon? I thought I smelled bacon." Katie pouted, pretending to be upset.

"Sorry, Kates. Gotta eat well to play well."

"This from the guy who suggested sneak-out sessions?"

"I'm kidding. Here, we need a bit of fat to burn anyway." Oliver took a plate of bacon out from behind his impeccable kitchen counter, placing it in front of Katie's gleaming eyes. "Crispy, just the way you like it."

"You're the best!"

"I do try."

They finished breakfast in a bit of a hurry, what with Oliver's practice at 8 and Katie's lunch appointment. Rushing to the Apparating alley, they hastily bid each other goodbye.

"Let me know how everything goes," Oliver smiled encouragingly, and surprised both himself and Katie by grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently. "I'm sure you'll kill it!"

"Fingers crossed!" Katie said giddily, her heart suddenly in her throat. "Have a good practice. Ol!" Hesitantly pulling her hand away, she gave him one last smile. With a loud _CRACK!,_ she was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Weeeeell? How's that for a happy morning? Hahaha please leave a review if you liked it! Or, you know, if you hated it. Orrr if you want more of Oliver's abs ;) All constructive feedback is appreciated :) Until the next update! x Izobel**


	4. Compounds and Contracts

**A/N: Slight change of plans! I was trying to make sense of how the League worked out in 1999, and it's kind of weird to me that a league comprised of 13 teams could go on for almost a year. So I'm sort of condensing the events to fit the purposes of my story :)**

**Also, I apologize for two things: first, this monstrously long chapter, and second, for not replying to some of your reviews! My email has been acting up lately :( But one review that made me laugh my head off came from an anon named Benj (boyfriend of Liz, I think?) and so I'd like to give him a shout-out. Thank you for reading, and I hope Liz can help you out with this whole FF business :)**

**As always, I hope you enjoy! Please do leave me a review – comments, suggestions, constructive criticism are all welcome.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 4 – Compounds and Contracts<strong>

Katie sat in front of her closet, wringing her fingers. What to wear to an interview? When she'd gotten home from Oliver's, she said a quick hello to her bewildered mum, ran upstairs and locked herself in her room. After reverently removing Oliver's sweater (and perhaps sniffing it a bit longer than necessary), she jumped into the shower and gave herself the best scrub of her life.

That was the easy part, so now she sat in nothing but a towel, despairing over her range of clothing. She finally selected a classic beige origami dress, deciding that the slim fit skimmed her athletic figure without sacrificing her femininity. The beige hue accentuated her tan, and the delicate details at the neckline implied that she was… well, a classy person.

"I am a classy person," Katie repeated to herself, zipping the dress up and accessorizing with a skinny belt and a gold watch. She slipped her shoes on – sleek d'Orsay pumps – and finally gave herself the once-over through the mirror. She nodded in approval, giving her reflection a high five.

The hair and makeup that followed after was a quick process. Katie took her wand, blasted her hair dry, and gathered it in a messy French twist at the nape of her neck. And since she didn't want to look too polished, she settled for mascara, some blush and a pop of pink gloss.

Katie glanced at the clock: 10:26 a.m. Her meeting was for noon.

"Someone's excited," she chided herself. She settled for cleaning the small mess she'd made, and then snuggling with Oliver's sweater awhile. She caught herself in the middle of thinking that Oliver looked much better in blue – Puddlemere's old mud-brown robes didn't quite complement his eyes the same way the new blue ones did. Yes, blue was a good change. She clutched the sweater tighter. Its scent, clean and masculine, was soothing to her, and melted away her interview jitters. So occupied was she that when she finally glanced at the clock, it read 11: 45.

Rummaging through her laundry pile, Katie found the pouch containing Lara Svityensky's Portkey. Katie slowly opened it, and, glancing once more at Oliver's sweater, dropped the miniature snitch in her palm. Katie felt something hooking around her waist as she was pulled into the swirling vortex of the Portkey. No sooner than it had begun, Katie felt herself land on some grass. She instinctively jumped up, afraid she'd stained her dress. Upon confirming that she was casualty-free, she charmed her dress creaseless and took in her surroundings.

She stood on a neatly manicured park, with flowers and beautiful trees surrounding the landing. A few yards away, a high stadium stood in stark relief. It looked like a very sleek, feminine structure, with big, curved windowpanes to let the light and the air in. Nearby were two low-rise buildings not unlike those she'd seen at Oliver's place. Katie suspected that they were probably offices, if not condominiums. Katie observed the green Holyhead flag waving upon a pole. The pole next to it boasted the Quidditch League's flag. Happy to be in the right place, she walked towards the stadium.

As she approached, she noticed a burly-looking woman standing tall by the high doors of the entrance. "Excuse me," she said shyly, "I'm Katie Bell. I'm here for an interview?"

"Miss Katie Bell?" the guard asked. "Miss Lara is expecting you. Right this way, please."

"Oh! Thank you, um," Katie peered at the security guard's name tag. "Martha. Thank you, Martha."

Martha gruffly gestured for Katie to follow her. As they walked down the bright, carpeted halls of the stadium, Katie could feel her blood pumping. Everything looked so elegant that she couldn't help but feel out of place, even in her dress and heels. She let her eyes roam upward into the high chamber, and gasped to see hundreds of ethereal-looking snitches zooming about freely in the sunrise-colored atrium.

"They're victory Snitches," grunted Martha before Katie could ask. "Match dates are engraved on 'em. The ceiling's a sentimental piece, charmed like yer Great Hall at Hogwarts to look like a cotton candy sky. Like dawn, y'know? The Harpies filled the room up with all the Snitches they've ever won by. Pretty, when they ain't flyin' right atcha."

"They're beautiful," Katie agreed. She wondered to herself if it was anything like the flying keys Harry had described seeing in his first year at Hogwarts. _"What was he doing again? Looking for some kind of stone?"_

Remembering her former Seeker and teammate roused feelings of nostalgia within Katie. She zoned out, pondering on whether she should drop by Angelina's and Alicia's soon – it had been far too long, and she missed them. She missed their team and their friendship, and she had so much to share! Katie resolved to write them, and only hoped that she'd love it here just as much. Provided, of course, that her interview went well…

A quick elevator ride brought them to a box. It was no ordinary viewing box – it was decked out like a fine café, with a pastry and coffee bar, plush couches, coffee tables, and dining tables. The café also overlooked the expanse of the Quidditch pitch, and Katie could spy women flying in an intense scrimmage against phantom figures.

"Wow," she breathed, absolutely star-struck. _The_ Gwenog Jones was down there. She would meet _the _Gwenog Jones, and all the rest of them! She would be playing with them!

"Wow is right," came a voice from behind her. Katie jumped and turned around, embarrassed. "I'm Lara Svityensky. Nice to finally meet you, Katie Bell."

"It's – it's very nice to meet you too, Miss Lara," Katie shook Lara's hand. "You'll have to excuse me for being a little nervous. This is… this is pretty big. Are we in – "

"Wales? Yes. Welcome to Holyhead. I hope you're not too nauseous? This is quite far from your London home. Mercury's quite sore at me, you know, for writing you so often. But who understands the magic of owls?"

"I'm feeling fine," Katie replied. "The prospect of coming here was a bit more daunting than the actual travel."

"Well, let's get right to it, shall we? We have quite some things to discuss. Oh, and you can just call me Lara."

Lara thanked Martha for her assistance, and then led Katie to the table nearest the pitch. On the table were steaming plates of seafood pasta, Katie's favorite.

"I hope lunch is to your liking?"

"It is," Katie grinned. This interview was starting on the right foot, indeed. Lara asked her several questions about herself, not too many related to Quidditch. Katie felt more at ease with this sort of interview, for she was not a girl of many secrets. Her life wasn't too interesting, save for her Muggle job. When their conversation lapsed into contemplative silence, Katie looked out the window at the Harpies – her future teammates, perhaps. She mused that it seemed too good to be true; they were so near, and yet so far.

"Count 'em, Bell, go on."

Katie knew without doing so that they lacked a center Chaser. "They're only six," she said.

"Correct. I need seven for this team to function, and my scout believes you're the one to fill Joan Gafton's spot." Joan Gafton was the Harpies' star Chaser, only she'd died in the Battle of Hogwarts a couple months prior. Much speculation surrounded her death, with many contending that she was, in fact, a Death Eater. The Harpies tried to cover this up as much as possible, and even Katie did not know whether or not it was true. Gafton, after all, was a very controversial player. She wasn't afraid to play dirty, and she got the job done. Fans were divided between admiring her and hating her, and that fact in itself left Katie some very big shoes to fill, personality-wise.

"Forgive me for asking," replied Katie, "but why me? I've been out for the longest time after the cursed necklace thing, and I've pretty much been a Muggle lately."

"I think the question is, why _not_ you?" Lara smirked back. "You see, Miss Bell, we keep tabs on our potential players even after they graduate. And why would we want to let go of a Chaser who managed to singlehandedly score an average of 6 goals a game back in school? Let me tell you, your batch of teammates and opponents were pretty rough compared to others. Between now and next season, there's even more time to improve."

"I had help," Katie blushed. "My teammates…"

"They helped, all right. But it was the way you played that had us interested for some time now. You're a born entertainer, Bell, and our scout was certain you'd charm men and women alike. We're a creative team, and we love to entertain our fans. Of course, we also wanted you because you passed the first and absolute requirement."

"I'm... female?"

"Bingo. Everyone that works at Holyhead wields something men both fear and revere – a lady part."

Katie had to laugh. "I knew the Harpies was an all-witches squad, but I didn't realize that even management was all-female. How awesome!"

"In this day and age, we don't actually have the right to reject men who apply for jobs anymore. It's considered gender discrimination," admitted Lara. "But men just tend to think we don't hire them, so they don't apply, nor we advertise gender-based positions. Anyway I don't think they'd enjoy working in an all-female environment."

"All female except for me, of course," came a deep voice from the café's entrance.

"Miss Raul!" cried Katie in shock, "You're… you're here! I was gonna tell you, I wasn't just going to quit my job, but –"

"Relax, Katie," laughed Raul Guido as he exchanged air kisses with Lara. "Who do you think scouted you for the Harpies in the first place!"

Katie sat back in her seat, dumbfounded. "You… scouted me?"

"Why, yes, I did."

"And then you scouted me for, erm, modeling?"

"Oh, don't be so surprised, my dear," Raul tittered, "It's what keeps me sane during the off-season."

"So that's why you knew my name when I met you!" It was all beginning to make sense. "And that's why you made me work out! You were keeping me busy!"

"You could say that. You were so awkward it was adorable. I was keeping you fit for your own sake. And it wasn't a waste of time, now, was it?" he winked. "Love the dress, by the way. _Trés chic_."

Katie squinted at the scout, ignoring his compliment. "Miss Raul, you have been one sneaky man! And my letter said my scout was a 'she!'"

"Do forgive me. You were always a favorite of mine. And my name _is_ Miss Raul, have you forgotten? I hardly count as a man."

"It's all good," Katie relented, straightening her features out.

"Now," Lara interrupted, "I hope that's all settled. Should you agree to fill a spot on the team, Katie, we'll start you out with a monthly salary of…" Lara scribbled a number on the paper napkin and pushed it towards Katie. The younger woman's eyes nearly bugged out. "Whoa. That's way too much! Are you sure you didn't forget to place a decimal point somewhere there?"

"Don't be so modest. It may be unwise of me to repeat, but I mentioned in my letter that there's talk that another team wants to acquire you. It's your choice, of course, but this salary among other perks is what we're willing to offer to have you play for the Harpies. It's not even as much as you'll make if you stick around longer. Business is booming for Quidditch now that the Dark Lord is dead. Stocks are high. People will want to see games. Do well and they'll come to see you play, even in the friendly matches. They'll invest in us."

"Lara, you're bound to shock her!" laughed Raul. "Let's finish lunch before bombarding her with details, hmm?"

"Oh yes, where are my manners?" The astute manager seemed genuinely shocked by her own behavior. "Forgive me, do finish up. Afterwards we can take a tour of the facilities."

Katie happily polished off her pasta, and Lara gestured for her follow her and Miss Raul. Katie felt she might hurl from excitement.

Down another grand hallway, Lara and Miss Raul chatted lightly about the team's merchandise and the junior cheering squad – topics which interested Katie very little. Instead she followed behind them, and lingered a little to examine the posters and memorabilia framed along the walls.

"_1953"_, one placard read, "_Holyhead Triumphs over the Heidlberg Harriers of Germany_." Katie had read as much as she could about the famous seven-day match, but she'd only dreamt about how it might have looked when Rudolf Brand, the Harriers' captain, proposed marriage to the Harpies' captain, Gwendolyn Morgan when the whole game ended. And now she was staring at the moving picture above the placard, which depicted, clear as day, Miss Morgan herself bashing his head in with her broomstick.

"_Classy,"_ thought Katie in awe. She couldn't help but feel bad for Rudolf Brand. Every time she'd concuss him, either the photograph would reset itself, or Brand would get amnesia and forget having proposed in the first place.

Katie tore her eyes away just in time to see Lara and Miss Raul turn a corner, and she ran as fast as her heels would allow in order to catch up with them. As she reached the corner, the pair turned to check if she was still there.

"I thought we'd lost you for a second," chuckled Raul.

"Sorry about that," blushed Katie. "I just got caught up –" Before she could apologize further, Lara opened a glass door into what looked like a temple for pampering.

"The spa." Lara gestured past the reception area. "In through there are the locker rooms and showers. After training, the players may then proceed to take their showers and ice baths, and then here for mud baths, massages, seaweed wraps, saunas, facials, manicures, hair and make up, or whatever else they might feel like."

"Wh-what?" Katie couldn't understand. Wasn't Quidditch a manly sport? And yet here the manager was, pointing expertly at the various, decidedly _un_manly facilities that the Harpies boasted. "This is not what I expected at all."

"Let's just say we know how to keep our girls happy," winked the manager. "They might be able to play at par with the gentlemen, but they're still ladies, after all. And what lady doesn't like being pampered after a long, hard, day?"

"Would you like to meet the team?" asked Miss Raul. "They should be in the locker rooms in a bit."

"Would I!"

"Hang on," said Lara. "That can wait until the tryout. If you don't mind, Katie, it's just for formality's sake. If you haven't been convinced that we do want you, then I have just one more thing to show you. You live with your parents, yes?"

"Yes," said Katie, wary of where Lara was going with this.

"Well, you're of age now. And given your busy schedule, you may want to be situated somewhere closer to our training stadium. Within this very complex, perhaps?"

Katie's jaw dropped. Oliver had already told her about how some teams offered their players their own private lodging, but it hadn't occurred to her that she might be offered a place, too. It really was all taken care of, wasn't it?

Lara took her hand and Apparated away. They landed some yards away from the stadium before what looked like seven small, cozy bungalows situated by a lake. Katie spied front and back porches, the latter of which faced the lake. They would be perfect for watching sunrises, or just listening to the water at night, Katie thought.

"This is Harpy Lane. Not such a charming name," said Lara. "Four of these houses are currently occupied. That one is Jones'," she pointed, "And those belong to Griffiths, Geyser, and Chapman, respectively. You could have any of the remaining houses."

"And… where do the others stay?" Katie asked.

"They have their own homes outside of the compound. Grant is getting married, and Dermont has children. You understand this is a single women's compound?"

Katie nodded her head. "And… Joan Gafton?"

"Scared she'll haunt you?" snorted Miss Raul. Katie had nearly forgotten he was there. "Nay, even these facilities were never enough for the _great _Joan Gafton."

Katie could taste the sarcasm. Was the late Chaser really that unpopular?

"What Raul means to say," Lara shot him a glare, "is that our players have the freedom to do with their salary as they wish. Nobody is required to stay here; we simply give them the option. Joan, Merlin spare her, opted not to. You may choose to live on your own outside the complex, or have any of the remaining houses and decorate it."

"Really?" Katie cried in wonder.

"Yes, really. After training, you're free to return here, or to do as you please."

"And… what about meals?"

"I see you've heard about the meal plan," Lara chuckled. "It's not as bad as you probably think, I guarantee."

"Do I get to eat – "

"Bacon? Occasionally."

"And – "

"Ice cream? You even get extra after a bad breakup. Which, of course, I don't suggest you go about looking for. Quidditch is a very demanding career, and you may not even have time for a relationship."

Oliver's face flashed in Katie's mind, but she was quick to shake it off. They didn't have anything, so she shouldn't even be thinking about Oliver, right? It was a crush, at best. And Oliver could have any girl if he so wished it, so why would he consider her? She pondered for a second, and then opened her mouth to ask, "What about friends? Family? My, uh, my Muggle job?"

Miss Raul stepped in. "You'll definitely have time for all of the above," he said gently. "I'm not going to drop you because I think you're great at what you do. Contrary to what others in this business might tell you, Quidditch isn't everything. We want our girls to live, too, and you can invite whomever you wish over to your place so long as you handle things responsibly."

Katie gave him a questioning look, to which Raul chose to reply, "Yes, even boys. All Lara's saying is, be careful with your heart. Breaking it might affect your game, sure, but it will harm you first."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks, Miss Raul," smiled Katie as he gave her a hug. "Although I wasn't really asking about boys so much, just so you know."

"Consider it among the Harpies' FAQ."

Their tour of the grounds had to be cut short because of Lara's next appointment, but Katie felt she'd seen all she needed to see. "I'm ready to sign," she said giddily.

"That's great!" gushed Raul, but Lara's demeanor was a more serious one.

"Please, take this home," she said, handing Katie an envelope. "It's the contract. Read it and think about it well. This is a serious commitment, one I will not have you make if you are not ready. I want you to take some time to consider everything we're offering. Tomorrow, you play with the team. Only when you've had a taste will I let you turn that contract in, signed or not. 7 a.m., Harpy Moor Stadium. Are we on?"

She held her hand out, and Katie shook it. "I'll be ready."

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><p><strong>AN: Review! Katie's signing that contract depends on it! :O**


	5. Headlining the Locker Room

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, especially to EmberNickel, brilliantincandescence, EbonyK, and OliverWoodLuvr :) Your words have been most encouraging. My wish, though, is that everyone who presses on Story/Author Alert would let me know what she thinks!**

**Before you find out Katie's fate, I present a gift for you all: some Puddlemere lovin' ;) Happy Friday the 13****th****, or Saturday the 14****th****, wherever in the world you are!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 5 – Headlining the Locker Room<strong>

"Pick it up, Wood, PICK IT UP!" bellowed a frustrated Coach Nolan from his levitating observation pad. By no means was his Keeper doing horribly, but he certainly wasn't performing at his best. "Ye're playin' like a damn pansy! That's the ninth goal you've let past you!" With an angry wave, the coach cut the drill and sent his players off on a water break.

"Not you, Wood, get yer arse over here," Nolan called gruffly. Oliver flew to him, sheepish. As Oliver opened his mouth to speak, his coach pulled a newspaper from under his own arm and whacked him upside the head. "Could _this_ have anything to do with that shoddy performance?" Coach Nolan crossed his arms accusingly and shoved it into Oliver's gloved hands.

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><p>'<em>MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR' Oliver Wood Spotted With Mystery Woman<em>

_Puddlemere United's star Keeper, known for his near-reclusive habits, was seen out and about just last night, August 27, with an unidentified young woman. Onlookers described her as tall, brunette, sweet-featured, and "very familiar-looking". A society girl, perhaps? The couple shared an intimate dinner at the Swinging Cheshire, where they reportedly looked very cozy, with plenty of laughing and arm touching. Although witnesses were unable to capture photos, they report that Wood and his date left together, arm-in-arm._

_ A source close to the famously secretive hunk says, "It takes a special kind of girl to get Oliver out of his shell. Quidditch is his life. But now he's seeing somebody, and he couldn't be happier." We couldn't agree more. This is the first time Oliver Wood has been seen with another woman since his steamy affair with the ginger-haired socialite, Amber Guest. After their confusing break-up last year (who really knows what happened?), we think Oliver deserves some fresh, new company in his life!_

_ What do you think? A lady who has actually captured Oliver Wood's fancy? Is it possible that Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor has found his match? Stay tune as we find out who his mystery lass is!_

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><p>Coach Nolan observed many expressions flit through the Keeper's face as he read the article: confusion, slight shock, mild contempt, amusement, and, most puzzlingly, happiness. Finally, the coach took it upon himself to disrupt his Keeper's reverie.<p>

"Oy!" he said, "Is it true then?"

"Huh?"

"Don' play dumb with me, Wood!"

Oliver took a second to scan the article. Dumbfounded, he finally assented, "Um… Some of it, I guess? What 'source'? I – I mean, this was just yesterday! She's a friend from Hogwarts, Coach, the girl I was writing the other day. Remember?" His forehead creased in earnest.

Coach Nolan gave him a scrutinizing look in response. And then, "Security wards showed that ya let a girl in last night, an' that she left this morning. Same lady?"

"…Yes," Oliver reluctantly admitted, for once hating that he was being monitored. It felt weird. "But nothing funny went on, Coach. It was a couple drinks –"

"There it is!" bellowed the Coach, stunning Oliver into silence. "This," he said, shaking, "is unlike you, Wood. Booze does not mix with training. I never thought I'd have to tell ya that. And as for the girl… Ya know what?" Nolan held his hands up. "Never mind."

Oliver ruffled his hair, aggravated, knowing his coach had much more to say. About his alcohol consumption, maybe, or his night with Katie. But Coach Nolan reined in whatever comments he might have had, and instead traded them in for a warning. "This… is probably different from that slag, Guest, that PR had ya dating. Bloody waste of your time, if ya ask me.

But from all the boys on my squad, I've come to expect the most from you. This is definitely a first, which is why… I'll let it go, just this once. Yer personal life ain't any of my business."

Oliver nodded, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. Relief. Coach Nolan went on: "But if I see you making moony eyes instead of saving goals, I'm going to kick yer arse halfway to Wales, understand?"

"_Halfway to Holyhead,"_ Oliver thought, a grin beginning to make its way onto his face. But he suppressed it, and mumbled, "Yes, Coach. I apologize - I had a lot on my mind this morning. I'll pick it up."

"Good," Nolan said gruffly. "We might only be in the friendlies rounds until the season formally starts next year, but I'll have no lollygagging. Now get yer arse in line."

Oliver somehow managed to get past training in spite of his little hangover. He also realized that thanks to the morning's events with Katie, he'd forgotten to wear his athletic support, which accounted for the discomfort he was feeling _down there_. Still, he carried on like a trooper, forging through every goal-blocking exercise Coach Nolan threw his way, as well as the post-scrimmage sprints and the core workout. If he thought that the coach was being extra hard on him today, his teammates confirmed he wasn't just imagining it.

"What crawled up Nolan's bum and died there this time?" asked Roger Davies sourly after training. Davies, though a longtime rival of Wood's at Hogwarts, wasn't so bad now that they were on the same team. Roger got bumped up to first line just that year, and he wasn't quite used to Coach Nolan's methods yet. He was smart, though, to keep his griping to the confines of the locker room. "Shoddy game today, Wood."

"He's got it in for me today, men," winced Oliver, giving his hips a little shake. Then he held up his hands like he was in a trance. "It's like he knows."

"Knows what?" Sean Flanner, Puddlemere's veteran Chaser, took a seat on the bench. "I, for one, know you forgot your support. Look at you go. How's the ol' pair now, hmm?"

Oliver shook his head, smiling wryly. "If I'm lucky, they'll still be functional, if not a little bruised."

"I, for one, agree," said Roger thoughtfully, flexing his abs before a mirror. "I couldn't help but feel that Nolan was a bit pissy at you."

Mock gasps abounded. "The Golden Boy? Piss Nolan off? Never!" cried Flanner. "Stop, I beg you, Davies. You look more like a ponce than you do on a regular."

"It's true," Oliver peeled his Keeping gloves and arm guards off, and made to remove his sweater. "Sorry he made it difficult for you lads. How else do you punish a Keeper?" He pulled off his boots, socks, and shin guards, flexing his toes for good measure.

"I think the question is, 'Why punish the Keeper?'" Davies smacked the back of Oliver's head with the towel slung low on his hips.

"Oy! I don't wanna see that! Put the towel back on!"

"Bothered, are ya? Well, I'm not!"

"I might have the answer," cackled Benjy Williams, their Seeker. He threw down the same newspaper Coach Nolan had thrown at Oliver earlier that day. The others leaned in to investigate.

"How'd you get your hands on this, Benj?" frowned Oliver, recognizing it instantly. Roger scrambled to get his towel back in place.

"Filched it while Coach was busy killing you," Benjy winked. "Finding Snitches gets boring after a while, so I gave myself a break."

"Most eligible bachelor Oliver Wood spotted with mystery woman… WHOOP!" Roger Davies gave a yell that caused the team's Beaters, Neil and Philly to take immediate notice.

"What's this?" cried Neil Borodin, poking his head out of his shower stall.

"Wood finally has a woman? A real one? Pay up, mate!" cried Philly Wilson from his ice bath.

"Aw man, no!"

The Keeper groaned into his towel, blushing as Flanner shook his shoulders in delight. "Three cheers for the handsome, charming, most eligible Oliver Wood!"

"WHOOP! WHOOP! WUHOOOOOO!" The men's locker room was in mayhem. Davies skipped around with glee. Philly Wilson made spit fountains of his ice bath water ("No to shrinkage!" he cried). All to Oliver's dismay, of course.

"Who's the lucky ducky? There's a goody Woody," teased Flanner, massaging his shoulders.

"I am going to streak in this locker room if it isn't a stunt!" Davies guessed. "Is it!"

"Another stunt?" asked Flanner, confused.

"Please don't," Benjy frowned at Davies.

Oliver stood up, rolling his eyes. He grabbed the offending newspaper and slowly crumpled it. "Men, while I… _appreciate_ the strange interest you all have in my love life or lack thereof, I'll have you know she's not my woman," he said evenly, controlling a blush that was surely creeping onto his cheeks. "It wasn't a PR stunt. It wasn't a date." He deftly tossed the paper ball at Davies' head, hitting the mark before Davies could bat it away. Concealing his inner glee, he strode towards the showers.

"I just wanted to congratulate you, mate! It's not like you've dated an actual girl since Bell… If it counts," Davies taunted in retaliation.

"Who?" asked Flanner again. Oliver played deaf, and instead stepped into the shower and locked himself in. His glee had converted into nervous energy over the reality that Davies could have known (or could he?), and just felt glad the others didn't.

Just as he pulled his breeches off, Neil splashed some cold water into his stall. "How convincing, Wood! If you weren't interested in this mystery girl, won't you tell us who she is?"

Oliver inwardly cursed his teammate's having noticed his omission. "You were washing your nuts with that water," he grit out, and pretended to drown himself in the shower until everyone left. With nothing but the spray to keep him company, he wondered why he couldn't just tell them everything. Or anything, for that matter. It was just Katie, for crying out loud. Then again, it was _Katie_, not _just_ Katie.

When the coast was clear, he made his way back to Puddlemere Tower. In the lobby he bumped into Isadora Fairfax, the only female on the team. They entered the lift together. Pressing on the button for the 14th floor, Oliver asked, "16th, Fairfax?"

"15th, Wood," she corrected him dryly. "I only live a floor above you, you keep forgetting."

"Oh, yes, how silly of me," Oliver said coolly, although his face betrayed a bit of panic, and Isadora took notice.

"I may have overheard some drunken singing from your flat last night," she said. "This is the first time I've ever heard you take a girl home." She sneered a bit, and pushed a stunned Oliver out the elevator and into his flat. "Can't say that I like the idea. I'll see you in the weight room tomorrow, yeah?" she said as the doors closed.

Sighing, Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was everyone on his ass today? And why was he so shy about wanting the rumors to be true? He shouldn't be, and it was high time he made a move, career or no career. It was decided: he would ask Katie out. Soon. Maybe. In any case, it wouldn't harm anyone if they saw each other more. Maybe.

The tired Keeper threw himself on his couch and thought of a letter to pen…

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><p><strong>AN: Hooray for Puddlemere in their various states of undress! Who's Oliver writing to? Review to find out! And stay tune - Katie's tryout is next!**


	6. Upstart Part I: Introductions

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! This chapter was really difficult to write because I needed to get in both characterizations and plot. So I've decided to split it in two, so it wouldn't be horrendously long. Without further ado, I present Katie's tryout! Enjoy! x**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 6 – Upstart Part I: Introductions<strong>

Early the next morning, Katie inspected herself in the mirror. She wore the green training uniform Mercury had delivered the night before, and was ready with all her padding and equipment. With her newly polished Cleansweep Eleven in hand, she picked up the portkey and landed, once again, in the Holyhead Compound.

Martha the security guard greeted her at the stadium, and led her into a hall she hadn't seen before. Katie met the secretary, Amy – a severe woman who looked as if she'd had a few espressos too many. "You're going to meet many important people today," Amy said in a clipped tone. "Maybe the owner, but for sure you'll meet the coach and the team. You must be very excited."

"Beyond," Katie replied with a huge grin. The secretary nodded, saying no more. But Katie felt as if her dreams were about to come true. It was only just setting in that she, plain ol' Katie Bell, was going play Quidditch for a living. Quidditch. Her favorite thing ever. After the cursed necklace, she'd become resigned to the reality that the chance to play professionally had slipped her by. The war had really begun, and Quidditch had become a distant dream. She'd even tried contenting herself with living like a fashionable Muggle, even if her job was all too shallow and girly for her liking. It was exciting sometimes, but Katie found fashion a bit too pretentious. Sometimes she wondered why posing for pictures even counted as an occupation. But she would be free of it forever, if she found a way to tell Miss Raul. After all, she was going to sign with the Harpies.

Amy led Katie to one of the offices lining the hallway. The placard on the door read, "_COACH BELINDA KING_". Katie was about to meet who was reputed to be among the toughest coaches around.

"Coach King," knocked Amy. "Katherine Bell is here to see you."

"Ah, let her in," a high, tinkly voice called from within. Katie's eyebrows shot up, and Amy prodded her into the doorframe. Katie approached the swivel chair at the desk area, which was situated by a large window. "Katie Bell reporting, sir – I mean, ma'am."

"It's 'Coach'," smirked Coach King. She placed down the newspaper she was reading. "Damn Prophet," she muttered, "Looking for dirt on players to garner interest. Yesterday they did a piece on the Puddlemere Keeper. Wood? Thought he was a queer." Katie frowned. "Today, they've got rubbish on Maddock from the Magpies. Unimportant. Let's get a look at you, shall we?"

Coach King got up to circle Katie. "Name's Katherine Bell, hmm? That could be an issue," she tutted without explanation. "I am Belinda King. You are to address me as Coach King, or Coach. I also respond to 'Queen', although I don't always take kindly to arse-kissing. Under no circumstances may you call me by my first name or any derivative of it. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss – Coach."

"You're nice and tall, around 5'9"? 10"? Long reach… good. You've got some muscle," the coach prodded Katie's arms and torso and shook her around. "Good, good. But we'll have to fill you up some. Hmm, at least you'll look good for the photo ops, yes? Raul tells me you're, ah… photogenic."

"I had a growth spurt." Katie considered that she ought to be insulted by Coach King's condescending tone. She could hardly process what the coach was saying, however, because of the latter's own appearance. Coach King, for all her reputed toughness, stood at a mere 4'11", nearly a foot shorter than Katie, who could've sworn the woman was taller. She had alarming, bottle blonde hair, and blue-grey eyes that flashed when she spoke. Her voice was how Katie imagined a pixie would sound. Was she really that scary?

"Playing experience?" the Coach broke through Katie's reverie.

"I played Center Chaser for Gryffindor from my second to my last year at Hogwarts. Not counting the year of the Triwizard Tournament… And when I touched a cursed necklace in my last year."

"Cursed eh? No other injuries?"

"Well, nothing else major."

"Side effects?"

"No long-standing ones. Everything else has been dealt with over a…" Katie struggled to find the word, "…sufficient amount of time."

"Therapy?"

"Too much of it, I think."

"Bodily limitations?"

"Nope, none. The Healers fixed me up great."

"Good, good. Have you played since?"

"I came back for the Finals against Ravenclaw, and we won. But I haven't played, not since the war."

"And were you at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Coach."

"Sorry. Coach."

"Then you're unafraid. I like that. What is your opinion of the Harpies?"

Katie gave an excited smile, "Oh, they've always been my favorite! Everyone cheers for the Bats and the Tornadoes 'cause they win a lot, but I've never been a fan of their playing style. It's too mainstream. The Harpies… they're exciting. And they make me proud to be a girl in this sport."

"And how do you feel about a tryout?"

"It'd be great, I think," Katie replied sincerely. She'd given this some thought. "It would hardly be fair if I didn't win my spot on this team."

"It won't be easy, but if you're up for it then Raul may just be right about you. Well? Anything you'd like to say about me, then?" Coach King smirked.

"Well," Katie blurted, "I just thought you'd be taller."

A moment of silence followed. Katie grimaced, expecting the worst. Surprisingly, though the diminutive coach began laughing. "Touché. You've got spunk. Let's go, kid. Practice time. And don't think I'll be nice."

"Er, Coach?" Katie said, unsure, "Miss Amy said I was to meet the owner?"

"That can wait," Coach King waved her arm dismissively, and stepped out a side door into what Katie realized was the pitch itself. She took in a shallow breath and shielded her eyes from the sunlight. Her heart was pounding hard, her hands grew sweaty. She gripped her broom tighter as she spied a line in the middle of the pitch composed of six players wearing her exact garb: the Harpies. Nearby was a group of coaches, huddled over their clipboards and balls. "Come along," said Coach King. Katie meekly followed.

"Good morning, ladies!" cried Coach King. The line made no move, no genial reaction. A couple of them glanced curiously in Katie's direction. "Today we finally get to practice as a full roster. I'd like you to meet Katherine Bell." She gestured Katie to come forward and introduce herself, which the latter did while trying her hardest to be cool.

Murmurs went around, and Katie didn't know if that was a good thing. She bit her lip and looked to the Coach for support.

"This upstart told me she thought I'd be taller," the coach deadpanned, getting a few titters from the women. "So don't be afraid to bully her. Bell, just because you got cursed bad doesn't mean we're gonna go any easier on you. In fact, we're going to be working you the hardest as soon as you have a regular schedule." Katie tried to keep a straight face.

"This is the rest of the coaching staff." Coach King pointed at the group of assistant coaches, who had come forward, as well. "Coaches Toni and Tanya, twins. Defensive strategy." Two identically burly women waved. "Coach Beatrix; her assistants Patti and Denise. Offense. Coach Caroline. Correction and conditioning." The rest waved and nodded, too.

"Okay, ladies," continued King, turning to the line of players. "Introduce yourselves, if you please."

"Glinda Chapman," came an airy voice. A petite, bubbly redhead stepped forward and curtsied. "Seeker. I _love_ your hair."

"Thanks…?" said Katie. "Your hair's really pretty too." And her coif _was_ oddly perfect – Katie had never really noticed because she only ever saw Glinda on the telly when she was gunning for the Snitch. Glinda was a fast one – she'd caught the darn thing seven times in a row in their last season.

"Annelise Grant," came a deeper voice with an American accent, "Left-wing Chaser." A brunette of medium build ruffled her no-fuss pixie-cut hair. She had a round face and delicate features – sweet, really, but Katie knew her game was deadly and intelligent.

"I hear you're engaged," blurted Katie, "Erm. Congratulations." Annelise offered her a shy smile in return.

Another tall, striking brunette gave a lazy salute. She wore her long, ebony black hair loose, and she possessed piercing blue eyes and porcelain skin. Katie spied an electric violet stripe running on the underside of her hair. _"If there's anyone here that Miss Raul should have recruited to model, it should have been her,"_ Katie grumbled inwardly.

"Wilda Griffiths," she cocked an eyebrow, sounding almost bored. "Right-wing Chaser. But you probably already knew that, right, Rookie?" And it was true. Heck, Katie knew all these players! That they were actually introducing themselves to her was surreal. She looked down the line as the Chaser stepped back. Gwenog Jones, who hadn't introduced herself yet, stepped to the side and slapped Wilda on her bottom. Katie raised a brow, and Wilda plastered on a passive, nonchalant smirk.

The Keeper stepped forward. Her long hair, which bordered between brown and blonde, was pulled into a sensible braid. "Bruna Geyser," she smiled, and Katie immediately felt at ease. Bruna even came up to her and shook her hand, something the other girls hadn't done. "Keeper," she smirked, her very slight accent betraying her German descent. Katie smirked back. For some reason, though she felt she ought to be intimidated by Bruna, she wasn't. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Katie murmured.

A hearty woman with close-cut curls came up to hug Katie. "Giovanna Dermont," she proclaimed proudly, her curls brushing against Katie's chin. "Call me Vanna! Or Momma. Mother of two, mother of this team. Beater. Nice to meet you, young lady." Katie beamed back at her, feeling even more at ease. That is, until the Captain stepped forward.

"Gwenog Jones," she said in a deep, commanding voice. Even her very presence was commanding: she stood a little over six feet tall, and her body was quite burly and muscular. Her coarse hair was cropped to chin-length and bleached so that it looked like a lion's mane against her dark skin. She stood out quite a lot from her peers, which Katie had never really noticed before. The younger girl's eyes went wide as her idol stepped forward and sneered, "Captain. Beater. We don't allow fairies on this team."

Katie glared at Gwenog's veiled threat, feeling disappointed at her quick dismissal. Before she could stop herself, she politely replied, "Then I'm glad to know you at least think flying comes naturally to me." Gwenog's eyes and nostrils flared, and Katie knew right then that the Captain's respect was not easily won.

"Ohh, she's feisty!" laughed one of them.

"Now, girls," said Coach King breezily, unnerving Katie even more. "We'll see what she's made of soon enough, hmm? Get in line, Bell." Katie inserted herself in between Griffiths and Geyser, far enough away from Gwenog Jones.

"LAPS!" yelled the coach, and the girls started running around the pitch. "Fifteen rounds, ladies, fifteen!" Katie kept a steady pace in the middle of the line, and tried calculating the distance in her head.

"_The oval is five hundred feet long, one hundred and eighty feet wide," _she jogged her memory._ "That's… that's…"_ Yeah, she gave up. Math was definitely not her strong point, but she guessed it would be around a five-kilometer run. It would be easy enough – Oliver always had them running laps anyway, as did Ange and Harry. Endurance was not an issue. Katie kept up until the beginning of the 13th lap, when Coach King blew her whistle. Suddenly the team began sprinting, and Katie tried to keep up with their mad pace. She caught up somewhere near the middle, and kept sprinting with them up until the finish. Naturally Gwenog took up the front. Katie finished third, and Vanna Dermont rounded up the group. Panting, the girls took on a leisurely jogging pace.

"Dermont!" screamed Coach King, "Slow! Twenty-one minutes forty-two total? Let's go, let's go! Bell! Good time! Try to beat Jones next time, don't hold back!" Gwenog took a haughty look at Katie, and proceeded to lead the group once more around the oval.

Panting, Katie turned to Bruna, the Keeper. "Is she always this snotty?" she cocked her head in Gwenog's direction.

"No," Bruna exhaled. "She just likes to scare people. It's how she ensures herself of respect on this team and outside of it."

"But… But what did I do?" Katie couldn't help pouting a little. Up until their introduction, Gwenog Jones _was_ her idol. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Nothing," Bruna rolled her eyes, "Like I said. It's her way of saying, 'Hello newbie, I'm Gwen! Fear me!'" Bruna beat her chest. Katie had to laugh, "And when does she go back to normal?"

"Depends. I suggest you impress her today. The better a player she thinks you are, the easier to get along with her it will be. She's not so bad, you know, when she's not being… you know."

"Noted. No pressure, eh?"

Their jog slowed to a stop, and Katie felt her legs cramp a little. _"Merlin,_ _I thought I was in shape."_ But King was brutal. After the team completed their warm-ups and stretching, she had them run suicide sprints and court exercises for a good twelve minutes. By then, Katie was winded. Then again, so were the others. To Katie's delight, even the mighty Gwenog Jones struggled to even her breath during the water break.

"All right," called Coach King, clutching a clipboard. "Break's over. Follow the Leader! Up in the air!"

"Get ready," Bruna nudged Katie lightly, "It's about to get rough."

Katie swung her legs around her Cleansweep and made to kick off. She had been nervous for this part – after all, she hadn't flown since… well, her last Quidditch game at school. And all the signing business had happened so fast that she hadn't had time to practice, or even fly for fun. _"Oliver would have had a stroke if he knew,"_ she chuckled in an attempt at humor. But as soon as her feet left the ground, so did her worries leave her mind. _Air was her natural element. The sky could not limit her. The wind would take her places_ –

"Bell? You done talking to yourself over here?" Coach King sat perched on her own broom, and regarded Katie with both eyebrows raised. With a deep blush, Katie muttered, "Er, yes, Coach."

"Well!" barked the coach. "Do what you see, and I'll see how you do." Cryptic. Katie then looked to where the team had kicked off to do the Follow the Leader drill. Glinda, the Seeker, had taken up the front of the line, and the five others made up a tail that followed her every move. Katie kicked off and flew to the line's end. She caught up in the midst of a particularly steep dive, and let go as she enjoyed the wind's resistance against her body. "Whoop!" she couldn't help but scream on their way down. The others looked back, puzzled. "Oops," she blushed, and she tried to keep her mouth shut from then on.

Each team member took a turn for every lap they made around the pitch, the previous leader falling back to the end of the line. Katie followed every roll, curve, swerve, and loop the leaders threw, and decided that she loved this drill. Gwenog appeared to want to knock everyone off their brooms, speeding as fast as her broom would take her while hanging by both hands, and then by just one. Katie willed her broom to keep up with their Second-Generation Firebolts, and only just managed to do so until Bruna took control over the line. She seemed to find it amusing to have everyone perform the Starfish and Stick while circling the pitch and through the hoops at a torturously slow pace – Vanna in particular wailed in protest that her ankles weren't made for the Keeper's cliché. Finally, it was Katie's turn.

"Rookie!" barked the Captain. "The hell are you waiting for? Go! Go! GO!"

Katie needed no further instruction. She let her instincts and muscle memory take over, and maneuvered her broom in the way she had done for years. Everything came naturally, from her signature quintuple barrel roll to her feints and her triple climb-and-dive. Mostly she relished in being able to mimic her favorite plays back at Hogwarts. As her lap came to a close, she decided to attempt one last maneuver: she boldly flung herself off the right side of her broom, grabbed the stick with her left hand, and swung her body around the broom twice and back onto the seat in under a second. She looked behind her, smiling exuberantly, only to find her teammates staring at her with their mouths wide open.

Nobody had attempted her favorite move. Not even Gwenog Jones. Katie frowned.

"Well, call me dizzy," clapped Vanna Dermont. "Isn't she cute!"

Coach King blew on her whistle before anyone could reply.

Wordlessly, the players moved to their respective stations: Glinda to an odd, clear tent with a few Snitches flitting around; Gwenog and Vanna to their equally burly coaching counterparts; and Annelise and Wilda by the other coaches and a line of Quaffles. On the other side of the pitch, Bruna maneuvered her way around the goalposts, psyching herself up. Katie flew up behind the Chasers and observed the drill.

Annelise nodded at Wilda, and took hold of the Quaffle. They then flew towards the opposite goals in tandem, passing the ball swiftly between them. As they neared the goal, Bruna hunched into a protective stance. Wilda zoomed towards Annelise, grabbed the Quaffle while Annelise feinted left, careened straight up with a fancy roll on her broom, and hurled the ball into the rightmost hoop and past Bruna, who missed by mere inches.

"Show-offs!" laughed the Keeper, "That was barely legal!" The Chasers flew back to the opposite end.

They gestured Katie to join them, but she shook her head. "One more, please?" Nodding, they zoomed back towards the Keeper, and this time, Annelise attempted a goal. Her methods were not as flashy, but she was speedy and wily. She somehow managed to get Bruna to dive right, and easily shot the Quaffle through the center hoop.

"GEYSER!" screamed Coach King, who had replaced her broom with a levitating platform. "That's two from you now! Let's go, let's go!"

"Sorry!"

"Sorry isn't going to save goals! Why, this drill isn't even supposed to be for two, it's supposed to be for three! BELL! Get in there!"

Katie sheepishly joined the other two, who then placed her in the middle. "Center Chaser. Right."

"Let's go, Katie Kingpin," Wilda Griffiths flashed a mischievous smile. "Give Coach something to really scream about."

"That's… bad, right?" frowned Katie.

"You'll see!" they laughed, and prodded Katie forward. "Remember," called Annelise, pointing at herself and to Wilda. "Annie. Wilda. Talk to us!"

From there, instinct took over again. As soon as Katie touched the Quaffle, it was like she zoned back into her playing days at Hogwarts. It was surreal. She passed the Quaffle quickly to Annelise before plunging herself below Wilda and coming up on the right wing.

The other two seemed to understand what Katie had in mind: Annie passed the ball to Wilda, and flew above her to center. Wilda then hurled the ball to Katie, who flew over Annie back to the middle. They continued in this plait pattern until just outside the scoring area, where Katie attempted a long goal from the outside instead of passing to a waiting Annie. The Keeper was quick enough, however, to save the goal.

From a distance Coach King nodded, satisfied.

"Damn," said Wilda as they flew back. "Good try. Where'd you learn that play?"

"My captain taught it to us back at Hogwarts. It was my favorite," replied Katie, blushing. "He was a bit of a tactician."

Wilda tapped her chin. "We haven't done that in a while. Let's try a basic Hawkshead, hmm?"

"I think we can do better than that," Katie grinned as they spun around. They then sped towards the goalposts in a V formation, Katie clutching the Quaffle up in front. She then broke the Hawkshead, flying higher than her two wingmen.

Interest piqued, Coach King planted three phantom Chasers – miniature trolls on broomsticks – to ambush Katie alone.

But Katie was quick – she dropped the ball down with a blind pass. "Annie!" she called, and the Left-Wing Chaser took over. To fend off the phantoms, Katie performed a tight barrel roll and landed herself on Annie's left side. Annie passed the Quaffle to Katie, who skirted the pitch and flew beneath her and Wilda. By sleight of hand, she feinted a hard left, but punched the Quaffle up to Wilda, who expertly caught it and sank it through Bruna's center hoop.

"WOOOOOOOWEE!" Coach King's piercing scream startled Katie, almost causing her to fall off her broom. The other two Chasers flew to steady her, unruffled by their coach's adrenalized reaction.

"Great assist," smiled Annie.

"You made Coach scream on your first day! Not bad!" Wilda gave Katie a pinch on the cheek.

"I'm fine," griped Bruna, although no malice laced her tone. "Next goal? No goal!"

"Keep trying, Bru!"

The three continued the drill with the Keeper and the phantoms. Bruna caught many of Katie's attempts, but Katie answered the Keeper's smarts with creativity. Now and then Coach Caroline gave input on Katie's form – Katie had a weird tendency to throw her shoulder or over-arch her back when she passed the ball. She didn't mind being watched, but as the time passed Katie couldn't help but notice another pair of eyes boring into the back of her head. She looked up to catch Gwenog Jones glaring at her.

Following Katie's line of vision, Wilda poked her, "Don't worry about Gwen. You just need to prove yourself. Then maybe she'll play nice."

"Maybe?" Katie gawked. From what she remembered of the Harpies' games and interviews, Gwenog Jones was not an enemy to be desired.

"Oh come on. It isn't every day that a rookie comes along and insults Gwenog Jones," Wilda smirked. "Gwen and I, we're plenty similar. And I think I like your guts, Rookie Dangerous, so it's just a matter of time before Gwen comes around. You're her teammate now."

"Here's to hoping," Katie smiled weakly.

Coach King broke their conversation with a piercing whistle. "Take five, ladies! Scrimmage afterwards!"

The players scattered, and Katie flew behind her fellow Chasers tentatively. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "Hey! It's Kate, right?" It was the Keeper, Bruna.

"Oh, hey. Katie, actually."

"Good eye out there. Coach is throwing me looks like, 'What are you doing!', and I don't get a lot of those. You take some getting used to."

"Thanks. My arm's kind of sore, though. Haven't played in around two years."

"But you're a natural. I should hate you."

"You're really good, too. I used to get Quaffles past my Captain in Hogwarts just by acting cute, but I can tell you don't swing that way, so."

They shared a laugh. Katie had a feeling they'd be good friends. "So is training always this intense?" she asked.

"You kidding me?" Bruna raised an eyebrow. "If anything, it's been relatively relaxed today. Coach must be helping you to adjust. Or observing."

"Either way, I'm going to feel so dead tomorrow." And it was true. Katie could feel the lactic acid all over her body. Even her fingers throbbed from all the ball-handling. Also, she could feel Gwenog giving her the stink-eye from just a few meters away. At this point she didn't know what would kill her more: her aching muscles, or the disdain radiating from her idol.

"Former idol," she grumbled, pulling her arms in to stretch. Bruna threw her a perplexed look, and handed her a goblet filled with energy drink.

The whistle sounded shortly after, along with the distinct shriek Katie was just beginning to get used to. "SCRIMMAGE!"

The players formed a semicircle in the center of the pitch, where Coach King stood beside a quaking chest of balls. Behind her were seven phantom players, each taking vague likenesses of different Quidditch players. Katie gave them scrutinizing looks, trying to recognize whom they were patterned after. _"So they _weren't_ trolls…"_

"Alright," said Coach King, "You know the drill, but I'll run it down for Bell, here. Seven versus seven. Free play until Glinda catches the Snitch, or lunchtime. Brooms up!"

Six heads nodded, but Gwenog Jones cut in, "I have a better idea, Coach. If I may…" Gwenog grinned viciously. "Don't you think, Coach, that it would be interesting to see how Bell would cope in a real offensive situation?"

"Meaning?" The coach flipped the chest open disinterestedly. Katie glared at the smug Beater while the other players rolled their eyes at their vengeful captain.

"I'd like for me and Vanns to play on the opposing team," Gwenog sneered. "Beaters with the phantoms versus everyone else."

"Is that necessary, Coach?" asked Bruna, although she looked straight at Gwenog.

Coach King weighed the options in her head. She asked, "Rookie, what do you say?"

Through her gritted teeth, Katie replied, "Sounds fair."

Katie lined up beside her fellow Chasers, Bruna, Glinda, and the phantom Beaters and watched with newfound determination as Gwenog and a hesitant Vanna lined up alongside the other phantom figures. They kicked up, hovering above Coach King in a circle. Katie considered that she ought not be too threatened. It was just a pissed-off Gwenog Jones with a bunch of holographic players, right?

Coach King said wearily, "Good clean match, yeah? Jones?" And she released the Bludgers, followed by the Golden Snitch. Gwenog watched after the Bludgers with a feral growl that made Katie shiver in her boots. Glinda laughed cheerily, promising to make quick work of the Snitch. Coach King took the Quaffle in both hands, and Katie's own clenched tight around her broom. Coach King tossed it up, and Katie zoomed in to snatch it from mid-air.

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><p>...To be continued...<p>

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><p><strong>AN: Ugh, I hate cliffies! I actually wanted to have the whole tryout up for you guys by today, but I just wasn't happy with it! This is the result. Anyway, how do you find it? Writing about Quidditch is really tiring, so any suggestions would be awesome! Review if you please, and thank you for reading! :)**

**Have a lovely week up ahead!**

**x Izobel**


	7. Upstart Part II: Game Changers

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm posting a couple days later than I intended. I've just been so excited over The Avengers! I've seen it twice since last Wednesday and I am just buzzing. No spoilers for those who haven't seen it, but lemme tell you, that film has so many gratuitous ass shots. I died and went to heaven! WATCH IT! At least twice – once for the plot and then again for the gorgeousness!**

**That being said, the perfect life ruiner casting inspired me to find matches for some of the characters in this story. You can all just imagine the rest, because sometimes it's better that way. FYI:**

**PUDDLEMERE**

**Coach Nolan – Vinnie Jones (She's the Man, anybody?)**

**Sean Flanner – Jeremy Renner (sighhhh)**

**Roger Davies – Max Irons (or any guy that's hot and seems to know it… a little too well)**

**Isadora Fairfax – Saoirse Ronan**

**HOLYHEAD**

**Gwenog Jones – Serena Williams (Belinda lol, I hope this answered your question! I actually imagined her as Gwenog loooong ago)**

**Wilda Griffiths – Olivia Wilde**

**Annelise Grant – Maggie Gyllenhaal**

**Bruna Geyser – Emily Blunt**

**Glinda Chapman – Candice Accola**

**Coach King – Kristin Chenoweth**

**Katie's Mum – Julie Hagerty (another She's the Man reference here).**

**As for Oliver and Katie, I can't say I'm capable of giving them distinct faces. I only know that Sean Biggerstaff is too tiny to play Oliver (although I had such a crush on him in the first couple of movies), and that Katie is too vaguely portrayed in the movie for me to commit. That being said, I have a couple of people in mind, but others may feel the way I do about it. So… ask and I'll tell!**

**For now, enjoy Chapter 7! Let me know what you think in a review! :)**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 7 – Upstart Part II: Game Changers<strong>

_Last time on AWOC: _

"_I'd like for me and Vanns to play on the opposing team," Gwenog sneered. "Beaters with the phantoms versus everyone else._

"_Is that really necessary, Coach?" asked Bruna, although she looked straight at Gwenog._

_Coach King weighed the options in her head. She asked, "Rookie, what do you say?"_

_Through her gritted teeth, Katie replied, "Alright, let's do it."_

_Katie lined up beside her fellow Chasers, Bruna, Glinda, and the phantom Beater-trolls and watched with newfound determination as Gwenog and a hesitant Vanna lined up alongside the other phantom figures. They kicked up, hovering above Coach King in a circle. Examining her competition, Katie considered that she ought not be too threatened. It was just a pissed-off Gwenog Jones with a bunch of holographic players, right?_

_Coach King said wearily, "Good clean match, alright? Jones?" And she released the Bludgers, followed by the Golden Snitch. Gwenog watched after the Bludgers with a feral growl that made Katie shiver in her boots. Glinda laughed cheerily, promising to make quick work of the Snitch. Coach King took the Quaffle in both hands, and Katie's own clenched tight around her broom. Coach King tossed it up, and Katie zoomed in to snatch it from mid-air._

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><p>"OOF!" If Katie thought somehow that the phantom Chasers were made of air, was she ever wrong. The troll-like figures Coach King had conjured felt solid as sold could be, and when she made to take the Quaffle, she was met with a very unpleasant collision. The phantom had obtained the ball, and Katie couldn't help but imagine it sneering at her as it flew towards the opposite goal.<p>

She'd almost forgotten Quidditch was a contact sport. "Ow."

"Let's move, Bell, move!" Wilda waved her arms passionately, gesturing for Katie to fly. Mentally berating herself, Katie swung her broom around and chased her teammates. By the time she caught up, Annie had already managed to intercept an attempt at the goal. Annie tossed Katie the Quaffle, and Katie rose up higher to get a good view of what was going on.

The Beaters appeared to be having a scuffle over the Bludgers – Gwenog in particular was looking murderous as the phantoms guarded her every swing. _"Good,"_ Katie thought, _"She won't be a threat for a while."_

But the phantom Chasers were hot on her tail – one of them was clawing at her feet as she flew. Katie dove sharply to her right side, swiftly passing the Quaffle to Wilda as she tried shake the ghost off. She then advanced to Annie's side, while Wilda swung the Quaffle in their direction. Katie acted as a barrier between Annie and the phantoms, and Annie, taking advantage of the space, flew undisturbed into the scoring area. The Keeper troll made to lunge to the left, but Annie was smart – she chucked the ball to Wilda, who swept in and punched it through the hoop. Success! Wilda pumped her fist in triumph – a move Katie had seen her perform several times on the telly. The young Chaser stopped for a moment to admire it.

"_TEN, NIL!"_ Coach King's _Sonorus-_ed voice went around the pitch. _"THAT'S RIGHT, MAKE IT DIFFICULT FOR US, GIRLS!"_

Katie made a mental note to ask what that meant later. Right now she had to focus.

She squinted her eyes at the phantom that had rebounded the Quaffle after Wilda scored. It was clutching the ball rather haphazardly, and was flying in a higgledy-piggledy manner towards Bruna's goal. Annie was trying to dislodge the Quaffle from its arms, but its odd manner of flying made it difficult. Katie zoomed to its other side, and extended half her body off her broom in an attempt to claw the ball away. She nearly succeeded – or nearly fell off, rather - the phantom made an odd show of raising the Quaffle and waggling it tauntingly before her. But she persisted, and just about leapt off her broom in a second attempt. Accomplishing the steal, Katie steadied herself by diving low towards the grass. She made a show of swerving her broom around, staying low but varying the altitude at which she flew. _"Quidditch is not a planar game!"_ she imagined Oliver barking in her head. _"Levels, levels, levels!"_

The Harpies' Chasers understood this as well. Wilda flew a few feet above Katie, looking out for a pass, or perhaps for the phantoms. But Katie withheld passing the Quaffle, listening instead for possible signs of interception. Feeling safe for the moment, she took a quick peek to where Annie was flying, even higher than Wilda. The two had formed a protective shield over Katie and the Quaffle – the goal was all hers.

Katie braced herself and took in a breath. She pulled her broom, willing it to climb swiftly upwards. As she broke the barrier between Wilda and Annie, however, she heard a whizzing noise approaching from behind her shoulder. Instinctively she rolled left, avoiding a fast Bludger to the head.

"GWEN!" screeched Wilda, infuriated. Katie then knew that Gwenog had found her way around the phantom defense. Her own teammates, however, were no longer within passing range. She was, in effect, alone.

Gritting her teeth, she performed a precautionary Wollongong Shimmy to throw off one phantom, and any metal death-balls that may have been aimed her way. She was only twenty feet from the goals now, and the phantom Keeper turned on his extra-feral face. She aimed to score, and made to release the Quaffle when she heard the distinct _CRACK!_ of a Beater's bat against a Bludger. No doubt it would be careening her way in a second.

Katie pulled back, climbing higher and flying into a loop. Her timing was impeccable – at the peak of her aerial somersault, she watched with wide eyes as the Bludger moved past what would have been her head and hit instead the phantom Keeper. The figure fell off its broom, and vanished. Heart racing, Katie flew up to the center goal and casually tossed the Quaffle in. Her first scrimmage goal.

"_TWENTY, NIL!"_

Triumphant screams erupted from behind her, and Katie couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. Her first goal had been no easy feat, and she'd just escaped the wrath of an angry Gwenog Jones. Thinking of her enraged Captain wiped the smile off Katie's face, though. After all, the Beater had just tried to maim her (twice!), and Gwenog's hits were terribly accurate.

"Merlin, Rookie!" Wilda called encouragingly as they chased after the Quaffle in the opposite direction. "Brilliant dodging! You wiped out their Keeper! Brilliant!"

While a small part of Katie reveled in this, a bigger part of her was suddenly wary of Gwenog's plans for her. She felt a heightened awareness that hadn't been awakened since the war, and knew that this was no longer a drill. _"In a very real playing situation,"_ her memory of Oliver offered, _"They will never spare you. Play with that in mind. Always."_

She nearly laughed. She always thought Oliver was being overdramatic. It wasn't like they were playing against Death Eaters or anything… Until now.

The phantoms had given Annie a rather hard shove, and she careened fast to the side as Wilda had a go at their offense. Katie moved to support her, but the Chasers were up three players to two. They pushed past Wilda and ganged up on Bruna for an easy goal.

"_TWENTY-TEN!" _Coach King shouted. _"Come on, Grant! Up! Up! Up! Push back! Faster!"_

A grumbling Annie came back alongside them as they made their way to the opposite end. Katie passed the Quaffle, dodging a halfhearted Bludger from Vanna. Annie took it, and using one of the phantom Beaters as a shield, flew uninterrupted and scored through the unguarded goal posts.

So did the game continue, until Katie's team was up 130 to 30. Katie wiped the sweat off her face. The hot August sun pounded on them, and Wilda had gone ahead and thrown off her chest guard and training jumper. She flew around in only a distractingly pink sports bra and breeches for clothing, having left on just her pads and gloves for protection. Katie was almost jealous, until she remembered she was a hot target for one Gwenog Jones.

Judging by the sun, Katie guessed it was near noon. They had been playing for maybe an hour and a half without reprieve, and she was getting hungry and tired. She had to give herself some credit, though – she'd scored five of their thirteen goals, and performed direct assists on four other goals. Because the opposing team was without a Keeper, the Chasers played extra rough and thus made scoring more difficult. And Gwenog had only tried to decapitate her, oh, maybe three or four times? But her head and limbs were still attached, and her arse was still perched on her broom. So far, so good. She wiped the sweat off her face with her sleeve.

Bruna had just blocked the Quaffle and thrown it to Katie, and the young Chaser took off again in the other direction. She passed the ball to Annie when a glint of gold caught her eye. _"The Snitch!"_ It hovered innocently on the outskirts of the pitch.

Katie scanned the pitch for Glinda, whom she found chatting it up easily with Coach King. This infuriated Katie for some reason, and after catching the Quaffle and haphazardly throwing it to Wilda, she flew over to Glinda and grabbed her hand. Both the Seeker and Coach King (who, indeed, had gotten bored) started, and stared at Katie like she'd lost her mind.

"Snitch!" Katie hissed urgently, and Glinda followed her gaze with a small frown on her face. Unfortunately for them, both Gwenog and the phantom Seeker had reacted to this joint movement. Glinda spotted the Snitch and gunned for it, while the phantom Seeker mimicked her actions. The game halted as they raced against one another for the hovering, golden ball, and just when Glinda extended her arm to catch it, Gwenog hit a Bludger hard in her direction.

"Watch out!" screamed Katie, and she rapidly flew to Glinda's left side to block the Bludger with her body. A loud crunch and a Snitch capture later, Katie was almost sure they'd won the game, but not so sure that her left arm was intact.

"Dammit, Jones!" Glinda screeched, "Don't you want to have lunch! And look what you've done to Katie!"

Coach King simply looked on, interest piqued once more.

Katie wobbled on her broom, unsteady. That Gwenog really packed a punch, didn't she? She struggled to bring herself down to the ground mind reeling. To be fair, Gwenog probably hadn't counted on hitting anyone. It was probably just a scare tactic, and Katie wasn't even her target. Damn her martyr complex! Or was it her hunger?

"Did we win?"

"Whoa, steady now, Katie. Deep breaths." It was Bruna. The Keeper helped her off her broom, and into the stretcher that some Mediwitches had laid out. "And yes, we won. Good job out there."

"Where'd you guys come from?" Katie hadn't seen them around before…

"We're always around. Don't worry," said one of them, inspecting Katie's arm. "Nothing's broken, only a dislocated elbow. Happens all the time. It shouldn't be so bad…"

The other players huddled around Katie as the Mediwitch waved her wand and popped Katie's left forearm back in its joint. Katie bit her lip, willing herself not to scream.

"Good girl," the Mediwitch gave her a lollipop. "Here, this'll make the pain go right away. You should be fine to train by tomorrow, save for maybe a bruise or two."

"Thanks." Katie unwrapped the lolly and popped it in her mouth. Almost instantly, a strong, minty sensation made its way from her tongue, through her arm and down to her elbow. It was an odd feeling, but Katie wasn't about to question it. _"Sweet Merlin, this stuff is goooood."_

The soothing sensation even passed over each of her aching limbs, and soon enough, every sore feeling in Katie's body dissipated into a faint ache. Katie didn't doubt that her face conveyed only the purest ecstasy.

It was only a few awkward moments later that she realized that her sweaty teammates were either staring at her in concern, or glaring at Gwenog. The captain in question looked torn between contempt and an unidentifiable emotion. A slow clap resounded from behind them, and the players parted to let Coach King into their circle.

The coach looked chillingly neutral, and she held their silence for a good half minute as she chewed on the inside of her mouth. Finally, she blinked and said, "I hope you're happy, _Captain_, because you almost lost us our Seeker on our first full-roster practice. Now you've managed to incapacitate our new Chaser before the season's even started. That would have been…" she took a pointed look at Gwenog, "Highly undesirable."

Gwenog had the grace to look ashamed. Coach King continued, addressing Katie. "Now. As for you kid, you're in. I told you before. You got spunk. I like that. Not a lot of people have the balls to block a Bludger with their bodies on purpose, not even professionals. It's utterly corny, but that kind of sacrifice – or stupidity – would have won us the game if this were all real. But since it was only a scrimmage, I don't count on you to make that kind of play every single time. Think smart, yeah? That being said, welcome to the team, Rookie. That is, if you still want in."

The rest of the team looked at Katie expectantly, and Katie took the lolly briefly out of her mouth to reply, "Are you kidding me? I'm in!"

Cheers abounded, and the girls gave Katie an embrace, jostling her and forgetting that she had injured her arm. "Ow!"

"Sorry!"

"Alright, alright. That's settled," Coach King interrupted. "Time for lunch, girls. Eat, digest. I'll see you back in the yoga studio at three. The rest of you might want to take an ice bath first, or go to the steam room."

They huddled briefly and scattered. Katie gathered her belongings, unsure of where to go. She made to follow Bruna and Wilda when a hand clapped on her shoulder. She spun around and knocked into Gwenog Jones. Katie froze, stunned.

"You'll catch flies," the Captain said pointedly, "If you leave your mouth open like that."

Katie shut it and resumed walking. If Gwenog Jones wouldn't play nice, then she wasn't afraid to do the same. She wasn't sorted into Gryffindor for nothing! "Then flies can go on the list of things I can catch. Which includes Quaffles, I think you'll agree."

Jones, who had kept up with Katie's determined stride, smirked briefly before steeling herself. "I wanted to apologize."

"Well – wait, what?" Katie stopped walking.

Gwenog chortled, again to Katie's surprise. "You weren't expecting that, were you? Keep walking," she commanded lightly.

Katie followed her. "Er… No."

"Rhetorical question. I was skeptical about you, you know. After Joanie... anyway. Long story short, I didn't think you'd be up for the job, and I wouldn't take anyone on this team that couldn't handle it. Quidditch isn't all glamour, and some girls… they're just made for smiling. I obviously don't take a shine to that sort."

"No," Katie snorted. "It wasn't obvious at all. You only tried to knock me off my broom maybe half a dozen times."

"It's hard to admit that I was wrong… and it was rude of me. Merlin, the only time I managed to hit you was when you saved Glinda."

"Guess it counts."

Gwenog barked another laugh. "So irreverent. I'd think you'd fear me by now, talented or no, Bell. In any case, I'm glad to have you on. That save… it was impressive, Rookie."

"Thanks," Katie grinned. She wasn't one to hold grudges, anyway. "And no offense, ma'am, but once you've been cursed within an inch of you're life, and once you've seen ol' Voldy in the flesh, little else will scare you. Except maybe Miss Raul on six shots of espresso."

They shared another laugh. "Agreed," said the Captain. "You're funny. And you can call me Gwen. Or Captain."

"Gwen," Katie grinned. "Well, then I guess it's safe to admit that you were my idol growing up – "

"Oh, here we go."

"I wanted to be a Beater because of you, and I – "

"Just shut it, Rookie."

" – So thank goodness I became a Chaser because now I get to – "

"Rookie." Gwen stopped before a pair of double doors, which Katie recognized as the entrance to the café. "Eat."

"And then can I have your autograph?"

"No."

* * *

><p>"So I take it you've won her over?" Bruna raised her brows at Katie. They sat a few tables away from Gwenog, who'd settled across a bra-clad Wilda.<p>

"She apologized, if that's what you mean." Katie gratefully took a spoonful of her meal – fish fillet in oyster sauce served on a steaming bed of quinoa – in her mouth without considering much what Bruna had actually meant. "Merlin, this stuff is _amazing._ And it's healthy?"

"You're brilliant, Katie," Bruna assured her. "Gwen was always gonna come around. Heck, when I came onto the roster, it took me weeks to get Gwen to even address me. And yeah, this is pretty good. I don't even really like fish. Have you tried the bok choi?"

Katie pushed the plate of vegetables away with a shake of her head. "Hey, but you're a great Keeper! You're one of the fastest in the League!"

"Thanks," blushed Bruna. "But you should have seen me when we started. I was so… afraid, I guess, of doing anything wrong. I pretty much had a stick up my bottom. Gwen beat it out of me. She's a snob, and she can be a terrorist, but I owe her a lot. And the coaches, too. You guys gave them a hard time today, I could see."

"What does that mean?" Katie remembered Coach King screaming something about that earlier…

"Silly," Bruna flicked the air, "Who do you think controls the phantoms?"

"Didn't think about that."

"Yeah, Coach King used to control all three Chasers. It's terrifying how much she can do all at once. But now she leaves it to the others so she can watch the game."

"Oh, and she looked_ so_ interested back there. I had to pull Glinda away from her!"

"Coach was playing Keeper, and you saw to it to knock her out early. You already showed her what she wanted to see. Plus, she and Glinda are like best friends."

"Lucky swerve. So… Glinda and Belinda?" Katie whispered, amused. They looked to where Glinda with Coach King, where the two cackled over their lunch like gossipy girlfriends.

Bruna nodded, scooping up more food. "It gets kind of sickening. Some days, they're like the sunshine twins, souped up on Fizzing Whizzbees."

"What's she going to beat out of me, I wonder? And Gwen?"

"Oh, you've proven your salt, at least to Gwen. If anything, I think you're the one to beat something out of her. The only other one on this team who can get a rise out of Gwen is Wilds, and everyone knows that Wilds is… well, she's Wilds."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Katie laughed.

"Seriously?" asked Bruna, almost incredulous. "Do you see anyone else in here who's half naked?"

Lunch left Katie positively stuffed. She understood then why a break was in order – there was no way she was going to be able to exercise after such a filling meal. Only now, she didn't know where she was supposed to go until training resumed at 3.

"I'm walking home," Bruna said, "I only live a minute away. Annie's gonna hang at Wilds', I think, and Momma V's gonna Portkey home and back later. Maybe you'd like to come over until then?"

Katie was only too grateful to accept; only those plans were foiled when Amy the secretary made an appearance at the café.

"Clips," murmured Bruna, to Katie's confusion. "It's what we call her. Clipboard, clips in her hair, clipped steps, clippy tone... Clips up her ass, you'd reckon. Clips."

Katie felt it was oddly fitting.

"Katie Bell?" Amy-slash-Clips summoned. Katie got up, and with an apologetic nod to Bruna, brushed off her clothes and followed the secretary away.

Amy led Katie down a familiar hall and into a lounge with a lavatory. She instructed Katie to change without explaining why – the young Chaser didn't dare ask, lest Clips lose her temper. Changing into a fresh shirt and shorts, Katie mused over how she found the secretary's snippy, impatient tone more menacing than Gwenog's deep, commanding voice.

Katie cleaned up a bit more and turned to a waiting Amy, who took her back to the hall of offices that included Coach King's. Instead of stopping there, Amy knocked on another office with a familiar name emblazoned across the door placard: _LARA SVITYENSKY, Team Manager_.

They entered the room, and true enough, Lara was waiting inside. Also in the room were Coach King, and, to Katie's surprise, a man.

"Ah, Katie, hello!" Lara greeted her, and Katie gave a wave back. "How was your first day of training?"

"Oh, you know, Gwenog Jones tried to knock me off my broom. I was absolutely star-struck."

Coach King smirked, "This one's proven Jones and me wrong. Good find, Lara, be sure you let Raul know that he may not pirate her back. He's had his fun."

Katie blushed at the compliment.

"Katie," continued Lara, "You will not be continuing with practice today."

"Oh, I assure you, Miss Lara, my arm is fine – "

"Oh it's not that. There's just someone I'd like you to meet. Katie, this is Mr. James Arkwright. The team's owner."

To say that Katie was surprised was an understatement: she'd all along been expecting the Harpies' owner to be a woman. Although it made more sense now that Lara was the team's representative at press junkets and the like. The Harpies were a female-centric team, and to be owned by a man seemed… well, out of the question, if not downright odd. Mr. Arkwright didn't look the part of a particularly wealthy owner, either: despite his age (fifties, Katie had guessed) and status, he dressed in only a down-to-earth tee, a hoodie jacket and faded jeans. Muggle clothes.

"Looks just as shocked as the rest of them did," Mr. Arkwright chuckled, stroking the scruff on his chin.

Katie snapped out of her stupor. "I'm sorry, that was so rude of me! It's very nice to meet you, sir."

"Oh, that was nothing. You should have seen your captain. I think Jones prefers to pretend I don't exist, but she should be glad my ex-wife didn't end up owning the team after our divorce instead. In any case, you won't be seeing me around often. I just like to pop in and out every now and then… Anyway, please. Have a seat." Katie obeyed.

Lara began, "Mr. Arkwright and I were watching your scrimmage from the view deck. You're undoubtedly a natural, and we wanted to talk to you about your decision to join the team. That is, if you've decided?" The three figures looked at Katie.

"Yes, I have!" she said eagerly. "I just wanted to say thank you for the opportunity to play. It's only been my first day and already I feel like this is where I want to be. I don't want for much else, really, and I'm terribly excited."

"That's good to hear," replied Lara with a smile. "Of course, we have to make it official. Have you got your contract? You could sign it right here, if you'd like."

"Merlin. I left it at home!"

"That's quite alright," Mr. Arkwright said with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "I imagine you'll have a few more things to consider. But I think you'd make a wonderful addition to this team, Miss Katie. You fit right in."

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me Jim. Er, I believe there is one condition, however, that you haven't been spoken to about?"

"Sir?"

"Have you, uh, read through the contract?"

"I can't say I have – Erm, I thought all the terms were discussed over our interview yesterday," Katie looked on apologetically.

"Hmm. You should have a look at it then – if you notice, all our players have first names or surnames that begin with a letter 'G'?"

Katie gulped. She did not like where this was going. Lara recited, "Gwenog. Giovanna. Glinda. Geyser. Grant. Griffiths. Even Gafton. It's tradition, you see."

"Yes, a tradition that predates even my grandmother's ownership of this team. And your name, Katie Bell, is not exactly compliant to that."

"So… you mean I have to change my name?"

Lara shrugged. "Geyser did it, as did Chapman. Bruna's real surname was Beyer – we changed it to Geyer, and decided that Geyser sounded edgier. Glinda's name was just Linda. I happen to think her new name suits her personality far better. It's not so bad, you know."

Katie's mind went reeling. Of course! How could she have overlooked one of the basic tenets of Harpy membership? She swallowed the imaginary pool of bile that had gathered in her mouth. "What would my name be, then? Gatie Bell? Katie Gell?"

The owner laughed. "Katie Gell has a nice ring to it, but not so nice as Bell, eh? Forgive the pun. Lara, Belinda," he then addressed the rest, "I actually wanted to speak to you two about this. It's a very old tradition, but we're in a new era of Quidditch. If there's any time we can and should abolish silly, rigid practices, it's now. So, Miss Katie, I wish for you to scratch that condition off of your contract before you sign it."

The Chaser heaved a big sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Arkwright!"

Lara, on the other hand, paled. "You're sure about this, sir?"

"I've made up my mind. Great players don't all come with a G in their names, you know, and not all great players will be willing to play when stripped of their identity," he said, eyes twinkling. "Not that identity is latched onto your name, of course. But it sure makes a person feel better."

And it did, Katie wanted to agree. It sure did.

Since Katie didn't have her contract, Lara gave Katie the rest of the weekend to sign. The next day was a Sunday – no practice. "And you can take the whole of next week off to move into your house and decorate. Of course, attending practice is encouraged, but you will be excused so you can settle down nicely."

Katie was then dismissed, and she happily left with thanks to her superiors. Clutching her things, she exited the stadium and Portkeyed back home.

* * *

><p>"Mum?" Katie called as soon as she stepped inside. Her mother was usually home on weekends.<p>

"In the kitchen!"

Katie made her way there and unceremoniously dumped her belongings onto the chair beside her. Gladys Bell tutted, "Darling, you know you should really be cleaning up after yourself. You're nineteen, for Merlin's sake!"

"Sorry, Mum." She chewed on a cookie her mom had offered her and thought of how best to break the news. "Guess what, though? The Harpies loved me!"

Mrs. Bell blinked rapidly. "Really! Oh, that's wonderful! When do you begin?"

"I've yet to sign the contract, but I've met the team and everyone important. It's a pretty big deal."

"Will you be playing with anyone I know?"

"Probably not, Mum. These aren't my friends, alright – I'll be playing professionally now. Like Oliver." There, she said it. Perhaps now her mother would comprehend.

"Oliver! Professionally! But that's dangerous!"

"Yes, Mum. No joke, I'm getting paid to play. And… I get my own place, too."

"…Oh," said her mum, suddenly a little dully. "So… what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means… that I'll be moving, Mum. To Wales." Katie felt her eyes water up. She'd studied away from home, sure, but now she was going to live over two hundred miles away, all year round.

"But… Katherine! That's so far from home! This is a major decision! How could you not have consulted with me and your father first – "

"Mum, I'm just a Portkey away. Here, I'll even make you one! And I'll write all the time – Gwenog's gonna kill me! My owl, I mean. And we can have lunch whenever you like."

Gladys paused for a few seconds, and finally nodded her head. "You're all grown up, my darling," her voice quivered, and she pulled Katie into her arms. Her daughter gladly obliged.

"I won't be very far away, not with a Portkey. I was hoping Dad would be here, too…"

"Oh, you know your father, always working. Always busy. You can tell him over dinner."

"Yeah, he'll love it! Hopefully."

Katie told her mum about how her tryout and her meeting with the owner went, and her mother proceeded to switch between gushing and fretting over Katie's whirlwind decision. Gladys finally provided her daughter with magical boxes for packing, and advised her to begin immediately.

"Excited to kick your only daughter out of the house?" Katie pouted.

"Don't be silly. But when my only daughter decides she's going to live on her own and leave her old mum behind, well, I'm not going to have her procrastinating! You can't even clean up after yourself! How will you manage living alone?"

"Mum, don't worry too much. Dad won't even notice I'm gone." Katie levitated the boxes to her room, with the idea that she should start packing.

"But_ I_ will!" her mother hollered back.

"Love you, too!"

As Katie entered her room, however, the presence of another owl put all ideas of packing away. It wasn't Mercury, but a handsome barn owl with a blue badge across its body. It couldn't be anything else but a Puddlemere Squad Owl. Katie's owl, Gwenog, was eyeing him interestedly.

"Oliver!" Katie rushed to make the owl's acquaintance, offering it a treat (a little to Gwenog's indignation). She took the letter it bore and scanned it quickly.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Kates,<em>

_I hope – no, I __know__ your interview went well. I'm guessing that you would have played with the by now, but since you didn't write, I don't really know. In case you haven't, watch out for Jones. She's a menace, don't let your admiration mask that! Eyes open! I suppose I'll find out how things went soon enough, because I've got a surprise for you!_

_No clues for you, other than that it has to do with Quidditch. Naturally. Expect some company soon._

_Yours,_

_Oliver_

* * *

><p>"Being cryptic doesn't suit you, Oliver," Katie said to no one in particular. But Katie was barely able to control the grin on her face. She penned a quick reply and sent the Puddlemere owl off. Mood boosted exponentially, she then turned to her belongings and began levitating them into the boxes, where they shrank and tucked away neatly. Halfway through, she realized she hadn't showered since that morning, and so she sauntered into the bathroom and gave herself a good scrub. She winced a little while trying to reach her back – her left elbow was still a little sore. Chuckling, Katie wondered how Oliver might react if she told him what happened.<p>

Her thoughts drifted back to his letter, and as she rinsed herself, she pondered what he could have meant. The possibilities! A small part of her, which she tried to quash, hoped that maybe it meant the other team that wanted her was Puddlemere. Oh, then she would be able to play with Oliver! On his team! But that would mean giving up a career with the Harpies, and she'd just gotten Gwenog Jones to acknowledge that she was good. She liked the Harpies. But an offer to play for Puddlemere would be great too…

Katie felt was getting ahead of herself. She stepped out of the shower and dried herself off. Chances were that the other team that supposedly also wanted to sign her had thought twice about it. Besides, she was happy with the Harpies. They were her favorite team!

She resumed cleaning out her things, placidly dreaming about her future. That is, until her mother very _un_-placidly barged into her room, harried-looking, and said, "Katie. Your father is home. Also… A team is here to see you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Le gasp! But who! Could it be Puddlemere? What is Oliver's surprise?**

**Cliffhangers suck! But as it is, this chapter is 14 pages long on Word. I know, you must be surprised over having read that much. Assuming you made it this far. I'll stop now.**

**So? Love it? Hate it? Let me know with a review! ALSO! Tell me if you've got faces for Oliver and Katie. I'd love to know! I have my own faces for them, and if you ask nicely, maybe I'll tell you too :) Have a great week ahead, everyone! And watch The Avengers, if you haven't already! Dibs on Thor, hunky beefcake that he is! **

**x**

**Iz**


	8. Surprises

**A/N: Hey guys! Sooo have you watched the Avengers yet? UGH it has utterly consumed my LIFE, hence this chapter being posted a week late. I'm sorry, it's just that UGH WHAT IS PERFECT I loved the Avengers :( And they're all so HANDSOME :(((((**

**So this chapter is for OliverWoodLuvr, who understands all my feelings :(( Anyone else want ScarJo and Jeremy Renner to just get together already?**

**Anyway I've kept you all waiting long enough! Enjoy! Review! x**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 8 – Surprises<strong>

That same evening, Oliver walked up to what he was sure was Katie's front door. Earlier in the day, he'd bribed Percy Weasley into divulging her Muggle address – it was Ministry protected, after all, and Oliver had never needed it to send post via owl. It had taken a few Galleons worth of shiny new cauldrons (Percy's weakness), but Oliver managed to obtain it. The stealth was ultimately necessary – he'd never been to Katie's Muggle home, and he didn't want to ask Katie for her address if it meant he'd ruin his surprise.

Yes, Oliver liked surprises. He used to claim otherwise, but he realized that surprise was a good tactic (especially in Quidditch!), and that he enjoyed catching people (mostly opposing Chasers) unawares. What he _didn't_ like – and there _was_ a difference, he always argued – was _him_ being surprised.

So when Mrs. Bell let him into the house, it much to his stupefaction to discover that he did not get there first.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" he spluttered at the two men seated before him. His brows set into an incredulous frown.

One man smirked at him in greeting, while the other sat still, unmoving.

Mrs. Bell looked back and forth between them, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. "Oh! You boys know each other?" she asked lightly. She'd been pleased to find Oliver at the door, although she hadn't counted on him reacting so strongly to their present company. Oliver's jaw clenched, and Gladys Bell wondered if she'd ever seen him look so irritated. Or so handsome. She never could deny her little crush on her daughter's friend. Even her husband knew! Inwardly swooning, she unabashedly reached out to give Oliver's tight arm a squeeze. _"Ooh."_

One of the two guests in their sitting room stood up and dusted off his jacket. If he was at all surprised to see Oliver, it didn't show on his face. In fact, he looked quite smug in his crisp outfit. He put on a charming smile and responded suavely, "We know each other very well, madam. Wouldn't you say, Wood?"

The Keeper grunted in response, veritably shaking in anger. He didn't want to make a scene, so he bit his tongue. Ignoring the smirks of the present company, he turned to Katie's mother and asked in a controlled, polite manner, "Mrs. Bell, I presume, then, that Katie is home?"

"Yes," she gushed, "I already told her that you boys were waiting. I didn't know that you would be here, too!"

"It's quite alright," Oliver dully replied. He sat himself down on the sofa. More coldly he said, "I suppose business is business. I'd really just be in the way."

Mrs. Bell, for one, thought it strange to have three hunky men – well, two, really, and one oddly silent one – asking to see her daughter on the same day. It actually tickled her fancy: _"If only they were here to propose, or something,"_ she clucked inwardly. If she had to choose, though, she'd pick her favorite, Oliver. The other man (_"What did he say his name was?"_), though obviously wealthy and debonair, looked rather devilish and dangerous, not to mention a bit old for her only daughter. _"Yes, yes," _she decided,_ "It would be _lovely_ to have Oliver around more often."_

"So," she clarified, "You're all here for, er… Katherine?"

Oliver eyed his company. The one who spoke earlier chuckled, "_We_ are, but I assure you, madam, I've no clue as to why Wood decided to swing by as well."

Mrs. Bell hardly had the time to form any speculations when Katie herself stepped out of her room. The group heard her before they actually saw her trot down the stairs.

"Dad?" she called. "Pop? Where are you! I haven't seen you in_ days_ –" She stopped in her tracks when she passed the living room. "…Oh," she breathed.

"Katherine," her mother said a little tightly, "I hope you recall my mentioning we had guests? You don't look very presentable right now."

Katie blushed deeply, and pulled the sleeve of her T-shirt a bit higher. Water dripped from her still-wet hair. "Sorry, I'll go get changed."

"There will be no need for that, Miss Bell," came a formal voice from behind Mrs. Bell. Katie glanced past her mother, but her eye skipped the men in business attire and went straight for the most familiar figure in the room.

"CAPTAIN!" she squealed, and rather unceremoniously ran towards Oliver, who stood up to welcome her into his embrace. "Ow, ow, my muscles still hurt. I can't wait to tell you about today!"

"Sorry," he chuckled, releasing her. He looked up, and his face went stony quite quickly. "Uh, Kates? This might not be the best time –"

"Katherine!" her mother admonished, now more than a little irritated. Nothing got on Gladys' nerves as much as bad manners or poor decorum did.

Katie apologized for the second time that evening. Stepping away from Oliver, she turned to greet the other people in the room.

"Darling," her mother began, "These wizards came to see you. They are from… what was it, Oliver dear? Puddlemore?"

Katie's heart raced with hope. _"Could it be?"_

"No, Mrs. Bell," Oliver began, embarrassed. "I play for Puddlemere, but –" he was cut off yet again by the man in the polo.

"Miss Bell," he said smoothly, "It's a pleasure. I really wish we could have met sooner – I'm Brevis Birch, captain and owner of the Tutshill Tornadoes."

Katie's heart could not have dropped more quickly. The Tutshill Tornadoes were among the best in the League – they'd won last season and had a staggering fan base. But they weren't Puddlemere, like she'd allowed herself to hope. "Oh."

"And this is my teammate, Merwyn Finwick. Keeper." The silent, burly man over his shoulder nodded his head in greeting. Katie was wary of him – the way he flanked Birch was reminiscent of how Crabbe and Goyle used to follow Malfoy around. In fact, Birch himself reminded Katie a bit of the blond that had given her that stupid necklace back at Hogwarts. Hot, but totally sketchy. His whole aura felt off. She took a step closer to Oliver, and felt a little safer when he put a supportive hand on her back.

Katie could actually have slapped herself for not recognizing them immediately. She looked again between the Tutshill players and Oliver, and realized with some horror why her former teammate was glaring at them with such animosity. That one time Oliver got suspended for three games in the previous season? Yeah, it was because of a post-game altercation involving him and none other than Brevis Birch. Katie knew not the particulars, although she recalled snippets of Oliver's vague letter of explanation. _Dark magic? Cheating? Someone knocked unconscious? _Sod her poor memory! All she knew was that Oliver absolutely despised foul play. He was a most honorable person, so Katie was sure he must have been in a rightful, raging fury to even consider participating in physical violence outside the pitch.

Sometime in her absorption in this, she managed to remember that Brevis Birch had addressed her. "Uh, sorry. Hi." _Smooth._

Birch languidly smiled and extended his hand. "You may already suspect why we are here. Finwick and I came over because we'd like to discuss your possible future in the sport with Tutshill. Pray, may we have a few minutes to speak alone?" He glared pointedly at Oliver.

"Erm…" Katie awkwardly shook Birch's outstretched hand, but looked to Oliver for support. The Puddlemere Keeper looked adamant, and at that moment he didn't want to move from the spot. He wasn't about to leave his Chaser in the hands of this… this… _reprobate_! Well, that was probably the word Oliver was looking for, except his anger seemed to have caused his vocabulary to evaporate right along with his tolerance for Brevis Birch.

"I'm not leaving this room," Oliver said stoutly. Gladys Bell looked on, confused and torn between worry and admiration for the young man. Brevis Birch took a different approach, and turned to Katie's mother.

"Mrs. Bell," his voice was laced with honey, "My colleague and I wish to discuss a possible professional Quidditch contract with your daughter. She is very talented, you see, and it would be a great boon to the Tornadoes to have someone like her on the team. She probably takes after you. And we know it takes a lot of understanding to support this kind of activity. You'd understand if we just wanted a minute to talk? This could be the best decision she'll ever make, and I'm sure you've trained her to make wise choices."

Katie almost snorted, thinking, _"Flattery's not gonna get you anywh-"_

"Oh, yes, yes," giggled Mrs. Bell nervously. "I completely understand. Come along, Oliver dear, let's go see what my husband is up to. Katie? Darling? You'll be fine, yes?"

Katie dropped her jaw in disbelief as her Hufflepuff of a mother half-pushed, half-smothered Oliver out of the room. (Not that there was anything wrong with Hufflepuff, Katie amended. Sometimes they were just a little easily distracted.) She stood up straight, feeling a little defensive. She wasn't even sure why – she just had a bad gut feeling about Mr. Birch and his slicked back hair, with nothing else but a vague memory to back it up.

"So, Miss Bell," he got up to inspect her. "We've gone through some lengths to come here, you know."

"How'd you find my home?" Katie said, feeling oddly brave.

"Ministry contacts," smirked Birch. "There's little money can't get, and your protected address was no exception. I'm sure Oliver Wood – Puddlemere – went through the same to find you, and I can offer you a better deal than they can."

"Oliver's my _friend_," Katie said emphatically. She considered, however, that Oliver had never actually been to her home. How did _he_ find her? She didn't recall handing him her address. Never mind. "It means he can come over whenever he'd like."

"Can he now." Mr. Birch sounded nonchalant. "Look here. I'm offering you a spot on our reserve team, one you won't keep for long. I intend to fire two of my Chasers – no one likes a lazy bum, and I haven't been happy with them as of late."

Katie imagined the Tornadoes' lineup in her head, counting off whom he could have been talking about. Mr. Birch observed her, a calculating look on his face.

"That's right, think about it. Two slots, one of which could be yours."

"I'm sorry, sir, I've already received an offer," Katie hedged, "to play first string for another team."

"Puddlemere!" the Tornadoes owner was almost incredulous. "You don't need to play for those losers! You can go and tell your boyfriend that I'll be paying you twice what they're offering."

Katie was quickly losing her cool. Who did this prick think he was to come in here and act like he owned the place? And did he honestly expect her to sign?

"Well," she cocked her head. "Why me, though? And why should I play for you?"

"Oh, don't you want to know? You're one of us," he announced, almost too quickly. He had a dark glint in his eye that made Katie recoil a little. In the background, Merwyn appeared to be nodding off. Birch shot him a glare.

"P-pardon?"

"When my scouts told me about your little predicament, I knew immediately that you could handle our more… intense methods."

"I – I'm not sure I follow, sir."

The manic look in his eye only intensified. "When I took over this team in '95, I knew that to make the Tornadoes a winning team – a _champion_ team – some changes needed to be made. The current style of training? It's obsolete. Muggle methods? Even older. All of that is paltry shit compared to the magic we use with our players. What I can do, Bell, is give my players immunity. Collisions, falls, injury? It'll hurt. You'll bleed. But ultimately you'll be impervious to all of that if you signed on. You'd be able to play on like a Muggle robot."

"And… why would that be?" Katie's knees began to shake, but she didn't want it to show.

A grin creeped onto Birch's face. "Ah, but that is for me to know, and you to find out when you sign. Let's just say your little brush with that necklace assures that you won't…"

"I won't…?"

"You know. Adjust badly and die. Your body can take our rigorous methods, you've proven as much. You'd be unstoppable, you know, with us. Exciting, no? Many a great man would jump at the chance to be the same." Birch's smirk was utterly unnerving at this point. Katie didn't need to ask another question to confirm her suspicions – the Tornadoes, who sat at the top of the league, were there thanks to dark magic. Exactly what magic, she didn't know, nor did Birch say. But she really didn't want to find out.

But did the Ministry know? Was anything being done about this? Questions swirled around in her mind, but she steeled herself to refuse him. But first…

"There has to be a catch."

"There is none."

"Side effects? There have to be some."

"None that matter in the grand scheme of things. The side effect is victory, my dear girl."

Yup. This guy was bonkers. Katie took a calming breath. She was honestly terrified. "Well… Thank you for your offer. I'm highly honored. But I'm sorry, Mr. Birch. I'm going to have to refuse."

"Then you have misunderstood my offer."

"No, sir, I understand perfectly. But I've been signed, you see." Okay, maybe a little lie was in order.

"Puddlemere? They're a bunch of _girls_ –"

"_I _am a girl. Puddlemere United is a fine team, sir, and I would be honored if they offered me a chance to play with them. But as it happens, I've just signed with the Harpies. And… there's no backing out of that." Katie stared him down. Her Gryffindor courage had certainly not let her down today.

Momentarily stunned, Birch held up his hands to admit defeat. He flippantly sneered, "Feminism. It'll get you nowhere, kid. But okay, don't say I didn't warn you."

He walked over to where Merwyn was snoring and shook him awake. "Get up, you lazy lout, we're leaving."

In a scarily quick maneuver, he grabbed his groggy Keeper by the arm and thrust both their bodies into the fireplace. A second later, they were gone.

Katie slumped onto her couch, tired and confused. To say some of her expectations weren't met was an understatement, but she was glad that the Tornadoes made her choice an easy one. _"It's final,"_ she thought, _"I'm signing with the Harpies."_

Shouting from the next room caught her attention, and she realized belatedly that Oliver was in her home. _That_ still needed some explaining.

She opened the door into the hallway and walked into the kitchen, where Oliver was pleading with her father. "But sir, they've gone silent! Those men can't be trusted! Merlin knows where Birch could have taken Katie by n– Katie!"

Oliver jumped over the island and pulled Katie towards him, knocked the wind out of her. "Are you okay? What did that slimy git tell you? He didn't make you do anything, did he? I swear to Godric I'll – "

"It's cool, Oliver, nothing happened. I sent them packing." Katie blushed into his chest. Oliver kept his arms around her in relief for a few more seconds, until a polite hiccough reminded them that they were not alone.

They couldn't have jumped apart faster. Katie's parents looked on; her mother looking positively gleeful and her father, though amused, looking a bit more concerned.

"Oh, um," Katie tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "Hey, Pop."

"So what's going on?" Ed Bell said in his growly voice. "I don't see you for a couple days and then I find out my baby's going to go pro? Give it here!" he laughed heartily and waited for his daughter to run into his arms. She obliged most happily.

"Pop I've been wanting to tell you! I'm gonna play for the Harpies!"

Oliver heaved a sigh of relief and ruffled his hair.

"I'm so proud. And good thing too," laughed Mr. Bell, "Because those goons were so close to giving this 'un a heart attack."

"Hey," Oliver defended. "I got suspended because of Birch. He's not the good sort."

"I watched that game," Mr. Bell agreed. "You fellas fought hard. But I could have sworn something was off. They tampered with your brooms, didn't they?"

Katie was surprised at her father's perceptiveness. No one else seemed to be of that opinion except Oliver and the folks at the Quibbler. Oliver was only too willing to recount what had happened that game: Puddlemere had been neck and neck with the Tornadoes around three hours into the match. It had been a particularly gruesome one – Beaters on both sides were bloodied, as were several Chasers on both teams. Oliver himself had only been a little roughed up, until a forced foul gave Tutshill the advantage of a penalty shot.

Oliver had steadied himself as the Tornadoes lined up to attempt the shot. He had an uncanny sense of balance, and when he was in the zone, he and his broom were like one. So he was utterly shocked when, instead of going left to block the Quaffle like he'd intended, he'd gone careening right. He would have let it pass as a bad fluke, if it hadn't happen once, twice, three more times after.

Three hard fouls and three missed penalties? That would never happen on Puddlemere's watch, and certainly not on his. There was some dirty stuff going on. Oliver couldn't help but notice that Birch had never gone in for the penalty, nor was he physically involved in any of the hard fouls. No, Birch was just flying along, staring intently at the scene of the foul and muttering. The Keeper knew a curse when he saw one – he'd witnessed Snape (or wasn't it Quirrell?) trying to knock Harry off his broom, after all. Luckily, Puddlemere's Seeker, Benjy, had managed to catch the Snitch and end the game. No one had gotten seriously hurt, just badly knocked around.

At the press conference, Birch had the gall to insinuate that Puddlemere had done the dirty playing, and outright called Oliver an idiot, among other things. The Keeper did not take this sitting down, and walked over to punch the Tutshill owner in the face. Chaos ensued, and both Oliver and Brevis Birch were suspended for three games apiece by the end of the fracas.

"I broke his nose," Oliver said somewhat proudly, and the Bells nodded their heads in approval. "Although he did give me a nasty hit to the gut."

"At least he left that handsome face of yours untouched," murmured Mrs. Bell fondly, and Katie felt herself blush right along with Oliver.

"Didn't he sue?"

"No, because he knew that I knew what they were doing. In fact, I haven't told anyone. Maybe it's because I was hoping the authorities already knew. They probably do know… And Birch probably paid them off." The Keeper had a bitter expression on his face.

"Quidditch can be pretty nasty, even outside the pitch." Mr. Bell commented, although it didn't need to be said. "Baby," he told Katie affectionately, "I'm glad you didn't sign with those hobos. I don't know why the idiots at Puddlemere didn't make you an offer instead, but I'll just have to wear green in your support from now on."

"Aw, Pop," Katie punched his shoulder, "You love Puddlemere. Maybe you can just cheer for us both!"

"Will do, baby girl. Now your mother and I better head upstairs. Make sure you eat some dinner – she's already forced food down that one's throat." With a nod to the pair, Ed Bell took his giddy wife by the hand and went upstairs.

"I was actually hoping you'd get an offer," Oliver admitted once they were alone. "But I have something better for you." He clasped his hands together and leaned in conspiratorially.

"I don't think I really wanna play on a team whose initials are 'P.U.'"

"Original." He pulled back.

"What's better, though?"

"Well, Birch kind of ruined it, but I suppose the surprise can wait until tomorrow."

Katie was dying of curiosity. She tugged on his sleeve. "Wait, what is it?"

"It's a secret, Bell," he winked, a naughty smile on his face.

"Mystery doesn't suit you, Captain," she told him this time. "Neither does mischief. Save it for Fred and…"

She said it before she could stop herself. Oliver pursed his lips, suddenly more serious. Katie tried to save the conversation.

"Anyway… How'd you get my address? I don't recall you asking for it."

"Oh, that." He tried to hide a grin. "I, er… I might have bribed Percy Weasley into giving it to me?"

"What!" Katie laughed. "Is nothing holy and protected anymore? What if you were a serial rapist or something!"

"Hey, don't talk like that. He did it because it's _me_ we're talking about here_._ It cost me a shiny sickle, though."

"Oliver Wood, stalwart protector of damsels' virginity."

"Hey," Oliver actually went pink. "I'll have you know – "

"Pray, what was Poncey Percy's price?" (Katie rather she didn't know.)

"He cracked after I sent a silver cauldron, and then a copper one that sings 'You Stole My Cauldron but You Can't Have my Heart'."

"I worry about him sometimes. And you."

"Mmm. But hey, Celestina Warbeck wrote our anthem! It's only fair I know her other stuff."

"Mmhmm."

"Well at least I'm here."

"You're here," she agreed, and they shared a smile.

"So," said Katie when it got a little weird, "Wanna tell me what the surprise is yet?"

"Nah," Oliver replied. "But you best be up early tomorrow!"

"Ol!"

"Kates!" he mimicked her whiny tone. Katie hit him on the shoulder.

"Ow," they said together.

"My whole body hurts now," Katie informed him. "I trained like anything. And Gwenog dislocated my elbow, you know."

"What!" Oliver cried. "Well, I suppose she has a fondness for bashing people into oblivion. But I thought that was limited to men. What happened? Are you alright?"

Katie assured him he was, and showed him her wicked bruise. "I'm gonna get it autographed," she whispered, and proceeded to tell him the events of the day. Being a Quidditch maniac, Oliver listened all too happily, projecting his opinions and advice here and there.

As it neared midnight, Katie saw Oliver to the front door. "Tomorrow?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," he smiled. "Bright and early." He walked down the short steps and gripped his wand. "Oh, and Kates?"

"Yeah?"

"Good night," he offered her a smile.

"Good night, Captain," Katie smiled back. With a small pop, Oliver Apparated away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Squee! Thumbs up for Protective!Oliver! Unrelated, but now that you're here, I just wanted to tell you to watch **_**What's Your Number**_**, just because Chris Evans is in it. He's hilarious. And handsome (#swoons).**

**Til next time!**

**x**

**Izobel**

**P.S. This is the last - PLEASE REVIEW! I really, really would love to reach ONE HUNDRED reviews by the time I post the next chapter. Hint hint... Okay, now I'm just bribing.**


	9. Getting Reacquainted

**A/N: Thank yooou, I've finally reached 100! This goes out to thenameisgermaine for crossing that milestone. Please continue supporting and reviewing, it really motivates me to write :)**

**Enjoy!**

**X**

**Izzo**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9 – Getting Reacquainted<strong>

"Kates." Katie felt a few light tugs on her hair.

"Neuuurgh."

"Bell. You're wasting a lovely Sunday morning, y'know." She received a gentle shove, followed by an experimental poke in the ribs.

"Snorknflagn." She batted the fingers away and scratched her head, thinking she'd just imagined the familiar brogue.

"Katie, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to wake up now," the voice rumbled with laughter. Katie felt her bed vibrate from the source, although her mind refused to register whom the voice belonged to. She turned over, but was immediately roused by a dull pain in her body. All _over_ her body. Ah, lactic acid. Wonderful thing, that.

"Gah! Oh, Morgana!" she groaned, much to the amusement of the person in the room. Katie finally looked over her stiff shoulder, and nearly fell over at the sight of an amused Oliver sitting by her bedside.

"What are you doing here! In my room!" she nearly shouted. "Bloody bollocks, that hurts."

"I figured as much," Oliver chuckled affectionately. "And it's ten in the morning. I'd been waiting downstairs for almost an hour when your mother just told me to come get you myself."

"She did what? Oh, that woman." Katie was more than aware of her mother's wish for them to go out. Katie also knew that had her mother been their age, she probably would have been all over Oliver Wood herself. Not that she wasn't already all over Oliver. Katie shuddered at the thought. "Wait. An hour? Ol, I'm sorry!"

"Well, your mum insisted on feeding me your breakfast," Oliver placated her. "And she did try to wake you, maybe twice. But you were dead asleep. Like a rock, she said. Don't you want to know what your surprise is?"

"I _feel _like a rock, Ollie. Don't laugh, you prat! I am in serious pain!"

Despite his amused chuckles, Oliver handed her a flask. From its spout wafted a very strong, minty odor. "I'm not entirely heartless. I brought you this." Katie eyed it suspiciously. "Well? Drink up. Merlin knows I needed it when I started out. I keep some in stock in case of a particularly gruesome game."

Holding her breath at the smell, Katie obeyed anyway. Relief surged through her muscles as she felt the potion take effect. She lay on her bed with a blissfully goofy grin on her face, and let her eyes roll to the back of her head. "A solution for muscle pain _and_ morning breath. Ol, you're the best."

They stared at each other for a moment before the Keeper grinned and made to pull her up. "Come on, you. We've wasted enough of the morning. Up! Up you go!"

She complied with a sigh, allowing him to take her hands and hoist her out of bed. He examined her full appearance and cleared his throat slightly. "You might want to get changed, Kates. I'll er, I'll wait downstairs."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Katie grinned as Oliver closed the door to give her some privacy. This grin faded quickly, however, when she turned and beheld her appearance in her full-length mirror. "Oh, boy."

Her hair was a rat's nest, and she'd forgotten she was still wearing her rumpled pajamas from the night before. To make things worse, atop her baggy T-shirt (most embarrassingly) was Oliver's blue training sweater. She must have put it on sometime during the night. Katie sniffed it, and it regrettably smelled more like her than like Oliver.

But Oliver had undoubtedly seen her in his sweater! Katie let out a long groan. "Nice one, Bell. It was okay when he lent it, but two days later is just weird. It's different!" Katie didn't know how – it just _was_, okay? She wondered why he hadn't said anything. Perhaps it was to spare her the embarrassment. She stared at her reflection glumly, wondering how to conduct herself once she finished changing.

Downstairs, Oliver was struggling.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he resisted the urge to do a happy dance. Oliver Wood did not dance. But when he had woken Katie up, the last thing he'd expected was to see her snoozing in his training jumper.

He tried to rationalize. After all, she'd worn it before. And now, Katie still had a reason to wear it. She'd never been great at Cooling Charms, and as a result her room was rather chilly. She needed to stay warm, right? She'd get ill otherwise, right? Oliver pursed his lips, trying to be satisfied with this explanation. But his traitorous heart thudded in his chest and he knew that trying to quash his hope would be fruitless.

"_Stop obsessing,"_ he reminded himself. If there was anything Oliver was good at, that was it. He'd obsessed over the patterns their friendship had taken over the years – he was good at noticing patterns, too. And the last thing he wanted was a repeat of their awkward times at Hogwarts – it was a constant cycle of getting along perfectly well, and then something strange happening, and then the weird little games they played to get over it. They'd outgrown that, hadn't they? And they were friends, for crying out loud!

Katie finally emerged from her room, looking fresh albeit bashful. Oliver stood up and looked at her expectantly. He'd been on the couch, trying his best to look calm while pretending to read an old Quidditch magazine. (It had been upside down, but Oliver didn't notice.)

"Er," Katie shuffled her feet.

"_Here we go,"_ Oliver thought dejectedly. She stuck out her arm and handed Oliver his newly Scourgified sweater. He stared at it, feeling disappointed.

"You might want this back," Katie mumbled finally.

"It's alright," Oliver replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "You can keep it. I have maybe five more?"

"Oh. Uh, okay then." She placed the thing down. _"It mustn't have been anything special, how silly of me."_

Oliver stuck his tongue in his cheek and nodded slowly. It didn't need to be said that they were feeling awkward for the same reason – they just got it. In Katie-and-Oliver World, that meant they wouldn't discuss it any more. "Let's go, then, shall we?" It would be normal in a second, Oliver knew. Well, their brand of normal.

He made quick work of grabbing Katie by the hand, hollering goodbye to her mum, and Apparating them away. They landed right outside the magical entrance of Diagon Alley.

"Good aim, Captain," Katie complimented him, grinning. See? Normal.

"Thanks," replied Oliver affably, feeling the tension melt for the moment. "Care to tap us in, then?"

"Sure." It was only then that they realized they'd still been holding hands comfortably, and the tension crept back into their arms quicker than a horde of baby Acromantulas could crawl. Katie blushed and pulled away quickly. She felt Oliver watching her intently as she rummaged, flustered, for her wand. Upon clumsily tapping her wand on the right bricks – three up, two across – she barged in through what used to be the wall, far ahead of Oliver.

"Kates! Wait up!" He easily caught up with her.

"_Stupid, confusing, six-footer Captain,"_ she panicked as she wove her way through the Leaky Cauldron crowd. It was a Sunday, so Katie was thankful for the throng. She'd been loopy since the second she'd woken up, and it seemed that being close to Oliver was not helping matters in the slightest. She put on a cheery face as they stepped into Diagon Alley proper. "Where to, Oliver?"

Oliver's expression was a little tight as he searched her face. Finally he replied, "This way, Kates," and ducked into a corner. Before she could question him as to their location, he took out an Extendable Ear wrapped in cloth. "It's a Portkey," he said sheepishly, "I can't use it outside of Diagon Alley. But it's just a precaution, really, with the paparazzi and all."

"Oh." Katie strung the info together, still unable to look at her former captain in the eye. She couldn't actually _see_ any photographers. "But where are we goi– " Oliver tapped the Portkey onto her hand and his before she could object. One short, tummy-turning vortex later, they lay in a heap in what looked to be a dim storage room.

"Sodding short-distance Portkeys," Oliver grumbled, getting up. He made to help Katie up, as well, but the latter seemed determined to get by on her own. Instead, he fumbled around for his wand. "Lumos."

The two examined their surroundings and confirmed that, yes, they were in a storage room. Unopened products lined the shelves and the smell of burnt rubber permeated the air. Realization creeped onto Katie's features as she opened her mouth to scream, but she was beaten to it by voices outside.

"Oi! I sense a rude intrusion!" came one.

"No doubt caused by your own insensibility," drawled another.

Katie busted out of the closet, right into the arms of – "GEORGE! ANGELINA!"

"KATIE!" They screamed back with equal vigor, hugging Katie tight.

Oliver, too, stepped out of the supply room and said, "What, no hugs for me?"

"No," said Angelina matter-of-factly. "We only just saw you yesterday."

"Right prat you were, too," said George with a huff. "We were expecting you to return."

"That wasn't my fault. This one," Oliver cocked his head at Katie, "had an appointment."

"Shut up, Oliver," Katie said, pulling herself out of the hug. "They kind of just barged in."

"Who's 'they'?" asked Angelina. She sniffed, "Wood says you've got quite a lot to tell us. I wouldn't know, I haven't seen you in months."

"But I have some clue," grinned George, a shadow of his former mischief on his face.

Katie felt bad for a moment, but then retaliated with, "Oy. The post works both ways, Angelina Johnson! You've been holding back on me, too!"

"True, that. Let's kiss and make up." They laughed it off lightly, and Angelina and George exchanged soft looks.

The gesture did not escape Katie. It was no secret that George and Angelina had gotten involved somehow after the war… and Fred's death. The loss of a twin and a boyfriend bore heavily on them both, so much so that George couldn't bear to be around anyone for a while, and the only one that seemed to make things any better was, surprisingly, Angelina. Where that left Alicia, George's now-ex-girlfriend, and the girls' other best friend, was a mystery to Katie. If only she hadn't gone AWOL for the past few months.

"So, uh, where's 'Licia?" asked Katie before she could think the question through. She could have slapped herself as the mood in the room palpably dampened, and the looks George and Angelina were giving each other turned worried, strained. Even Oliver, who was innocently inspecting not-so-innocent-looking sweets on the counter, looked up with concern.

After some silence, George murmured, "A lot of things have changed since Fred…" he stopped to correct himself, "Since you moved away, Katie."

And it was true – as he spoke, the formerly girls-don't-cry Angelina turned her head away, eyes getting a little watery. Oliver stared, unhelpful, and Katie tried to save the situation. "Well… We've all changed, I guess," she replied with false cheer. Facing her fellow Chaser, she asked, "So, Ange, maybe you wanna show me around?"

Angelina gladly took the branch she offered. "Only if you'll taste anything I give you without question," she smirked.

"Uh oh," Katie paled.

"Uh oh, _indeed_," huffed George. "Angie here was the test subject for many of the new ones! Would you doubt the quality of our… _my_ merchandise?"

"They're all deliciously traumatizing, I'm sure."

"Well you birds go on, then, I have a few things to gossip about with Master Wood here. We've started a collection, you see, Ange and I." George winked at Ange knowingly, while the latter merely rolled her eyes. Katie thought nothing more of it, and let Angelina drag her to the shelf lined with colorful, explosive stuffed animals. It was labeled "_Hug-A-Bombear_". Not George's most creative name, to be sure.

"Oliver says you've got some news," Angelina started warily. She obviously didn't want to talk about herself first.

"Oh, did he? Um," Katie began, "Don't be angry."

"Why would I be angry? Oh Godric, don't tell me. It's happened!"

Katie was clueless. "What on earth are you on about?"

"You're pregnant, aren't you!"

"WHAT!"

"That's why Oliver came here… You're pregnant with Oliver's baby! You guys are finally together!"

Katie was utterly affronted. "WHAT, NO!" she cried, causing Oliver and George to look up from whatever they were inspecting on the counter. Oliver, for one, looked a little pink in the ears, although he couldn't have heard the girls' conversation. "That's preposterous! Ange, we're not even dating!" she shout-whispered through clenched teeth. What had gotten into Angelina? She used to tease Katie about Oliver, sure, but nothing to that extent before.

Angelina gave a laugh, although it sounded a little forced. "It was worth a shot. Obviously you wouldn't be pregnant, but I honestly thought you were going to tell me you were at least _going out_ by now."

The younger girl realized that distracting her was Angelina's way of steering the conversation away from herself. She decided to oblige her for the moment. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint. My news might not be anywhere as monumental to you – the Harpies signed me!"

"What!" Angelina gave a genuine whoop, jostling Katie and jumping up and down. "Tell me everything! That is so great!"

"Better than me getting together with that Quidditch Nazi?"

"So much better, for now, anyway! Although I should have known it had something to do with Quidditch. That Oliver is bloody incorrigible."

"Tell me about it."

"And why would I be angry?" Angelina revisited Katie's earlier request. "You got signed by, oh, just the best damn team on the planet!"

"I don't know, I thought you'd be mad that I didn't think to tell you first. I wanted to be sure, first, and we haven't exactly been talking since…" she threw a pointed look at George.

Angelina sighed, looking resigned to talking. "I'd hardly know what to tell you if you asked," she admitted, "George… He and I have barely figured anything out ourselves."

"Well," Katie replied, "It might help to talk about it."

Angelina Johnson was by no means an unsure person, or so Katie used to think. But insecurity permeated her tone when she said, "I'm… I'm not ready to understand anything. About him. Or us. I just feel really lost, you know? And it's so hard not having anyone to talk to about it."

Katie could have cried. "I'm here now," she said, voice trembling.

"And I wish I'd Floo-d you sooner. I just don't know what I'd say. It's like… A lot of the time, George is the only one who's anchoring me here, otherwise I'd go crazy with sadness. But at the same time, he's… I'm… That was a three-year relationship. With Fred. And it's so soon. It's all just really messed up, and I hardly know what people will think… But I think I'm starting to have… feelings? For… for…" Ange looked on the verge of tears herself.

"Shh, shh," Katie pulled her friend into an embrace. Angelina took one breath, two, and finally calmed herself. Katie never felt like the older person between the two of them, perhaps because quite literally, she wasn't. But while hugging one of her best friends behind a shelf of explosive stuffed toys, she never felt older. She could only imagine how Alicia felt, and how Fred's death would affect their friendship. She resolved to visit the other girl soon, but for now she had to make things better. Oliver had probably meant the day to be a happy surprise, so she wouldn't burst another bubble.

"A lot of the time, I'm okay. Because of him, I mean. I feel normal. But I also feel terrible. And George has it far, far worse," Angelina added despondently. "And Alicia… I miss her, and –"

"We'll figure it out soon, Ange," Katie said kindly, "when it's just us girls." She couldn't bear to see Angelina cry and bring the boys into it, too.

Angelina took a couple of breaths. "Okay." Just like that, Angelina pushed all the doubt from her expression and plastered on a cool smile. It almost unnerved Katie how easily Ange could mask her feelings. That would explain her seeming normalcy when Katie and Oliver first arrived. She was only thankful that they were so close, and that Angelina could lower her defenses around her.

"So," she shrugged, "What's new around here?"

With a smile, Angelina led her to a row of glass jars, each containing shiny candy. Surrounding the jars, however, was an aura that glowed much like the Age Line that Dumbledore drew around the Triwizard Cup four years back. True enough, the sign above the row read, _Naughty Nougats. Legal Aged Wizards and Witches Only, Please!_ And in finer print: _WWW will not be held liable for any bodily transfiguration caused by the crossing of this Age Line._

"It was something of a joke between the Twins," Ange said with a little distaste. "George decided to see it to fruition. Nothing too kinky, of course, but it's all a bit raunchy."

Katie quirked a brow. "What happens if you're under seventeen?"

"And you try to cross the line? Oh, it's nasty. They get repelled, and then their pubes begin to grow impossibly fast. To the floor!"

"Merlin! But that's not very original," Katie giggled. It was a strange homage to the time George and Fred got repelled by the Age Line and began growing beards. She threw a glance at George and Oliver, the latter of whom was still looking uncomfortable.

"No, but it's highly embarrassing. I've witnessed many a teen run off in panic… Without asking for the antidote, mind you!" They laughed some more. "Here," Angelina handed her an innocent-looking blue nougat. Katie knew, however, that it was anything but.

"What does this do?" she asked, suddenly very nervous. She checked if anyone was looking.

Angelina inconveniently flipped the labels over with a flick of her wand, and said, "No questions, just eat it."

Katie bit into it. "Blueberry?" she said thoughtfully. The taste of the candy was good enough to distract her, and she swallowed it before getting to clarify what its effects would be.

"_Busty_ Blueberry," Ange almost cackled.

"What!" cried Katie, her hands flying to her chest.

"It's a hit with the people who run the, uh, _gentlemen's_ magazines. They order bagfuls every month!"

"Ange, I swear, I am not walking out of this store looking like a bimbo."

"Relax. George tested this several times on his brothers, even on Ginny. It only increases your cup size by one, two sizes at most? Ginny likes them."

Katie looked in horror as she felt her breasts expand ever so slightly. "You are _so_ lucky my shirt has some room, Angelina Johnson! How long before this wears off?"

"I'd give it an hour or two. These are really a bestseller, you know," she said conversationally, before her nose wrinkled even more. "Especially on the weekends. All kinds of women come in and just snatch them up!"

"But why would George make such a thing?"

"The whole range was supposed to be a bunch of practical jokes for guys – it still works on them by the way – but women have really taken a shine to the stuff for more seductive purposes, I think. Apparently it was in the works even before… you know, the Battle. George says he just owed it to Fred to finish it. Plus he gets a laugh over the others. Merlin, you should have seen Percy's _face_ when these things were in the trial phase! Honestly, I'd never seen his face go so puce. You'd think a bloke would enjoy getting to fondle breasts, even if they were attached to his chest."

"Ange, this is horrible." Katie turned to a nearby mirror, where she was greeted by her new C-cup breasts. Her heart raced in her (slightly larger) chest.

Angelina took a peek. "I think they look great! They hardly look that much bigger. Plus if you hated them, you'd be screaming your head off, don't deny it."

"I don't want _anyone_ to actually _notice_." Katie hissed, cocking her head to where George seemed to be playfully forcing something on an extremely embarrassed Oliver. She inspected the rest of the rack with a frown. "I don't even want to know what the rest of those do."

"You don't have to know," said Ange with a considerate pat. "And would it be such a bad thing if Oliver noticed? You've only been staring at him, oh, every ten seconds."

Katie blushed. "That obvious?" She looked down at her feet, puzzled as to why the view was different. Oh yeah. Her stupid boobs were in the way. She rolled her eyes.

"You're not very difficult to read, Bell. You and Wood both. Why do you think we keep pushing for you two to just go out already?"

"Oh, shut it, you!"

"What! You two have been hanging for, what, five years now? It's pathetic!" Yup, Ange just _had _to bring that up. Katie and Oliver liked each other back at Hogwarts, sure, but it was a vague little thing. Although things between them had escalated oddly so that they were forced to talk about their feelings, it's not like a relationship was a realistic, or even possible option back then. At the time, he was leaving school, and she had three years to go. So they decided to be friends. And they_ were_ friends – _great _friends, at that. No one had to mess with that.

"Come on, that was ages ago. It's different now. So shut it already!"

Ange refused to listen. "I don't see how it's different. Except maybe that you're both grown up now, so your little 'we'll be too far apart' thing isn't gonna work anymore! Stop looking for excuses, Katie! Your situation's a walk in the park compared to… well."

Katie huffed, "Well, I beg to differ. If you're so right, why hasn't he asked me out already, hmm?"

"Who ever said he had to do the asking?" The smirk Ange rewarded her was downright roguish. Katie didn't bother bursting her bubble of contentment, considering it was the first time she actually believed Ange was genuinely happy about something since Katie arrived.

"Whatever," she finally decided to say. Angelina threw her a smug grin. "Let's just go see what they're up to, shall we?"

The girls walked up to the counter, where George greeted them with much enthusiasm. Oliver, on the other hand, took one look at Katie and went red before looking away. His lips were pursed, his arms crossed. His expression could only be described as torn – Katie couldn't read whether he was pleased about something or completely mortified.

Turns out, it was both.

"Well, well!" George slung an arm around Katie jovially. He sounded normal, although Katie could detect that his enthusiasm wasn't what it used to be. "Have a good talk?"

"Hmm?" Katie said.

"Come on, Angie ought to have shown you some of our more interesting merchandise. I hope you liked it! You're looking rather… Perky."

It took Katie a while to understand what George had said, but his blatantly smug expression and Oliver's entirely ruffled demeanor said it all. She found a nearby mirror and elicited a loud gasp. She'd forgotten about the nougat's effect on her anatomy. "GEORGE WEASLEY! YOU UNDO THIS RIGHT NOW!" She hastily folded her arms across her now-ample chest, looking just embarrassed as Oliver._  
><em>

"What's that, now? Speak into my good ear, love!"

"GEORGE!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "Merlin. For the record, I tried feeding Ol' Woodie here one of those, too. But it seems I've been beaten to the punch – did you know Davies was a patron of my humble shop? It seems he's a particular fan of these."

"That's enough, now," Angelina interrupted nicely. "Katie, you only ate half, so it'll only last maybe fifteen more minutes, tops? Can you handle that?"

Katie tugged her shirt up self-consciously. Her bra felt a little tight. "I… I guess?"

"Okay, then, that's settled."

Oliver remained quiet, and began fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Katie didn't know if she should be more insecure that he noticed, or that he noticed and didn't want to look.

"I have something to distract you with, Katie," George proudly announced. "I was showing Oliver my new collection. You've really been holding out on us, love!"

George proffered a makeshift album for Katie to inspect. Inside were photos – Muggle photos of none other than Katie herself in her (not-too-many) magazine shoots. What George was doing with a collection of her photographs was beyond her, but he was kind enough to shed some light on the situation. "Ange and I were feeling particularly bummed out one day – what was it, Angie, two months ago? – that we decided to go on a Muggle field trip. I bought all sorts of weird things that day, and decided to pick up some random rag. And what else would I find but the glamorous Katherine Bell modeling - what was it? The best picks for summer?"

Katie groaned. That was her first shoot, and she'd decided that day that she was far too awkward for this… modeling thing. Even thinking of her previous occupation made her cringe – she was so uncomfortable with being a… _neurgh… _model. "I didn't bother telling you guys because, ugh, look at that! Actually, don't. I look so weird. It's unnatural."

"I think you look quite pretty in them," Oliver interrupted suddenly, and three heads turned in his direction. One bore a devilish grin (George, naturally), while the other two looked on, shocked. "Er, except… Except you're, er, not moving? This is Muggle stuff, right?"

It was a poor save, at best. Nobody replied for a good few seconds. He ran his fingers through his hair and pursed his lips again, feeling uneasy. Katie was the first to come to her senses, however, and meekly replied, "Thanks, Ol." He smiled in relief.

"Well!" George gave the Keeper a stout clap on the bottom. "This morning has been most eventful. Once the lady's bosoms have calmed," he bowed to a scowling Katie, "We shall go to brunch! Where to, my people?"

They decided on a quaint restaurant just down the street, where Oliver had a lower chance of getting ambushed by fan girls or the press. They got by reasonably well, with only a few children asking for autographs, and just a handful of girls lingering a little too long to scowl at Katie and Angelina. The friends caught up some more without any more mention of Fred or the War – it was all good Quidditch talk, with a fair amount of heckling and bets thrown in. The food was on Oliver, of course. Angelina and George had no qualms about it, while Katie made a fuss about wanting to pay for herself. Oliver had none of it, of course.

"I'm sure you'll do great, Katie," Ange hugged her best friend as the time came for them to part ways. George had to go back to open the shop, and Angelina had work. Oliver, too, had promised to visit his mum, and Katie had to finish packing. "Make sure you Floo me every detail!"

"Okay. Actually, Ange?" Katie interjected, "If you're free this week, wanna help me move into my new place?"

Angelina couldn't have been gladder to oblige. "I'd love to!" she squealed, grabbing Katie's hands. "But food's on you. And I want some autographs!" She loved Gwenog Jones as much as (if not more than) Katie did.

"Deal and deal."

"My best friend's a professional Quidditch playeeeeeer!"

"Oh, shut it!"

Oliver waited patiently for Katie to finish saying her goodbyes, his hands in his pockets. It had been an eventful, Katie-filled morning, from the sweater, to the portfolio of photos, to the nougat. He was glad he'd thought of spending his day off with Katie and their friends. When Katie had told him at their dinner date – er, appointment – how lonesome she was feeling, he nearly slapped himself. _He_ could play Quidditch and almost forget about having friends, but it was Katie who constantly reminded him of how important they were. Katie herself hardly knew how important she was to him. Oh! She hardly knew what she was to him at all, and while he paled at the prospect of actually telling her how he felt (_"What's that? I'm from the House of Gryffindor? Really?"_), he resolved to make her understand his feelings. _"Baby steps,"_ he psyched himself up as Katie skipped towards him and grabbed his arm.

"Home then, Captain?"

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned, and Apparated them away.

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><p><strong>AN: No Alicia here, sorry :( But she's coming real soon! I told you I'd bring back the old gang, and here they are! I hope this didn't disappoint. Review if you're beautiful (which I'm sure you all are)!**

**P.S. If you haven't already, go check out my first KBOW, **_**Freshly Showered**_**. It explains the backstory to this chapter a little, although I think this could have stood on its own.**


	10. Settling In

**A/N: Hello folks, I'm back! I'm such a cow for not updating - I just sort of lost track of the direction I wanted this to go. But no matter, I've found my way! I won't keep you any longer. A new chapter for you lovely, patient people!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 10 – Settling In<strong>

The week Katie moved into the Holyhead Compound was a hectic one indeed. Between transferring her belongings and redecorating her new bungalow, Holyhead's newly minted Chaser found herself busy but happy. Angelina was of huge help – Katie couldn't imagine trying to match her walls and her furniture all by herself. Though Katie should have expected that Angelina would be, well, herself: the first time Wilda Griffiths and Gwenog Jones stopped by with their housewarming presents, Angelina promptly introduced herself and put Katie on the spot by informing the Holyhead Captain of Katie's choice of name for her owl. Katie froze in mortification before her teammates, but she probably overreacted – Gwenog only smirked while Wilda gave a high cackle.

The end result of Katie and Angelina's moving efforts was pretty – a relaxing palette of colors that did the lake house justice. The pastel green walls with mounted, whitewashed oars and furniture were all Katie's now, courtesy of the Harpies. The morning the duo finished decorating, they plopped onto the overstuffed canvas couches to rest. Angelina passed her toes over the woolen rug at their feet and took a sip of her lemonade.

"Well, your place looks good!" She pointed her fan at the ceiling fan enchanted it to spin gently. "Well done, us."

"Thanks for all your help, Ange."

"No problem. You should consider painting Gwenog's cage to match the place, though. The black clashes with the whole theme."

Katie's front door swung open suddenly as Wilda Griffiths barged in. This was the second time Wilda had been to Katie's, though her expression was nowhere near as friendly. In fact, she looked downright furious.

"Sorry, rookie," Wilda fumed, "Mind if I stay here a while? I've fucking had it!" And as if she came in on entirely different pretenses, Wilda put on a winning smile and chirped, "So! What's going on this morning? Got any food? I'm starving!"

The younger girls stared at her, a little puzzled at her quick change of demeanor. Angelina pointed to the breakfast table, where some pita bread, hummus, and a pitcher of cold lemonade sat.

"Ah, Merlin, wonderful!" Wilda then proceeded to scarf the snack down.

"Are you… alright?" asked Katie cautiously. "Do you mind if I ask what's wrong?"

Wilda shrugged. Though a mouthful of food, she spat, "Jones. Cow thinks she can have her way whenever she wants, well you know what? She can't. I infinitely prefer your owl Gwenog to the cow version at the moment. Anyway. Enough about that. I love what you've done to your place – it's good for relaxing. Mine's all neon and animal prints. My cat hates it." Katie and Angelina exchanged looks.

"Thanks, it kind of looks like the cottage our friend's brother has – Shell Cottage? He lives by the sea."

"Mmm, That explains it." Wilda chewed contemplatively. The three sat in semi-awkward silence for less than a minute when the object of Wilda's anger came barging in.

"GRIFFITHS!" She bellowed, causing Katie and Angelina to jump.

"Uh-oh, drama," whispered Ange, getting smacked in the ribs by her wide-eyed companion. "Ow! Is this going to be a regular thing? If it is, count me in – ow, Bell! Where's your sense of humour!"

"Why don't you try being a rookie and having your superstar teammates get into a row at your brand new house?"

"Well, sorry that I'm but a humble fan!"

"What do you want, Jones?" drawled Wilda, licking her fingers clean.

"Come outside. We need to talk."

"Well I was just having some hummus with Katie here. And Angelina."

Gwenog looked at them for the first time and addressed them with a gruff nod. More beseechingly she said, "Please, Wilds. I'm sorry. Can we talk about it?" But Wilda wouldn't budge. "Get out of here, Jones. It's rude to Katie."

"Erm, it's ok, we can leave," Katie interjected. She wasn't gonna be put in the middle of… whatever this was. "So carry on, we'll just be outside."

Katie half-pulled Angelina out the back door and over to the lake. Through the window they could see and hear the two most volatile Harpies arguing over who-knows-what.

"I hope they don't break anything," Katie frowned.

"I wouldn't worry, the Harpies paid for everything anyway."

Turning out to the lake's shore, Katie saw the Harpies' Keeper, Geyser, sauntering their way. "Oh hey, Bruna! Care to join us?" Katie quickly introduced her to Angelina.

Nodding in greeting, the Keeper said, "I came over because I heard yelling." Bruna threw a meaningful glance at Katie's home, where the row seemed to escalate. "I just thought you should know it happens fairly often, so it's best you get used to it."

"The fighting? Is everyone this way?" Katie wasn't one to back down from a fight, but no one in her right mind would go around arguing all the time. Much less with teammates!

"No," Bruna reassured her. "Just Gwen and Wilds."

"I hope it doesn't get violent."

"Again, no, it's just a bunch of spats over stupid things. Like now, that's probably over a hairbrush. Or some broom polish. They love each other, and we're all a team. It'll all be okay by dinnertime."

Katie gasped. "Dinner! Ange!"

"I've taken care of it," grinned Ange. "Your mum and dad are coming over later, as are George and Ol. That's okay, right? Guests?"

"Yeah," Bruna flitted a hand. "I wouldn't worry. Rookie, you can clear the wards with Martha at Security, and then haveyour owl send the Portkeys out. It'll only take a minute, you know owl magic."

"Even if one of them's from Puddlemere?"

She and Bruna exchanged looks. "Do you mean Roger Davies? Their new kid? Or maybe…?"

Katie shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. "Er, Oliver Wood, actually. Former Captain, good friend."

Bruna smirked. "Interesting. Well, have Lara clear him first. He's a good boy, I think, and since you haven't actually got any Harpies info on you, it might be okay." More disinterestedly she asked, "Say, um, any other Puddlemere boys you're bringing around?"

"No, just the one."

Angelina butted in, cackling gleefully. "Don't you mean, _The One_?"

Katie shot her a withering glare, turning to Bruna again. "Care to join us?"

The Keeper politely declined. "Enjoy it with the ones you love best," she said in parting. "And don't have too much fun. Practice with us starts tomorrow."

As Bruna walked away, the girls assessed the situation going on in Katie's new house. Since the odd screaming match looked nowhere near through, they decided to split chores – Katie with the Portkeys, Ange with the food – and reconvene later.

After visiting Security, Katie returned home, relieved to find her teammates gone. Sending Gwenog-the-owl off with the Portkeys, she got about to inspecting her home. On the mantle she found a note:

"_Rookie, sorry about that. Everything's fine now, Have a good dinner. We (well, Lara) left you something to play with. W x G"_

With a sigh of relief, Katie folded the note and tripped over a package by her feet. It was quite long – a box wrapped in heavy paper. Katie was almost certain that she had just received –

"A FIREBOLT!" she cried with delight, tearing the wrapper off the newest model. "I've been waiting for you," she cooed, stroking its fine handle. Noticing another parcel, Katie put the broom aside and opened it. It contained Katie's new training uniforms, gloves, pads and boots. Barely holding in her squeals, she rushed to try them on. The equipment, made of dragon leather, was soft and plush. Each piece fit to her form as though it were made just for her. Moving her joints around, Katie knew she had to wear them in right. And Merlin, would she!

It took all her restraint to put aside her new gear. It would have to wait until tomorrow… _"Or at least until everyone leaves. I am going to sleep in my new stuff."_ She shivered with delight at the thought. That, however, didn't stop her from running out of her bungalow and taking her Firebolt for a spin. Upon reaching her back porch, she deftly hopped on to the broom and kicked off.

"Whoa," she gasped, exhilarated. Doing a mental run-through of the Firebolt 2's specs, she bulleted over the lake and slowed once she was satisfied with how far the wind pushed her cheeks. Hovering lower over the clear cerulean water, she admired the finer details on her broom. The little grooves in the dark wood had been filled with – "Gold, no way," – and polished perfectly with what Katie knew to be the finest dragon oil varnish. Pressing her face flat to the broom, she smiled at the scent of its newness.

A small pang of guilt hit her, however, when she remembered her old broom waiting for her back at home. It had served her well, and she decided then and there to mount it in a place of honor in her living room, just as Oliver had done in his flat.

At promptly 6:30, Angelina arrived with steaming packages of food. She'd bought a hodgepodge of cuisines: roast beef, potatoes, pumpkin pasties, fried rice and dimsum, enchanted expanding noodles, curry, tiramisu, and some jelly insects that wobbled when bitten. "You're the best, Ange!"

"I know."

George popped by exactly at 7, much to Katie's astonishment. "I'm a changed man," the Weasley Twin said solemnly. "Plus this one," (nudging Angelina) "threatened to hex my bollocks off if I dared to be late." With a flourish, he handed Katie her present: a rather nondescript, rubbery gray cube. She eyed it suspiciously.

"It's a security system of sorts, should anyone choose to barge in without your permission. I'll just put it above your door for you now – "

"But what does it do?"

"Well, what fun would it be if I told you?" George answered, his eyes twinkling.

"I've got one at my flat too," Ange rolled her eyes. "Luckily no one's been victimized by it… yet."

"Hey, mister. As long as I won't get fired for it, it's all good. Thank you, George." Katie didn't question him further. Ange confided in her earlier that George had suddenly become obsessed with protecting his family and friends. It was a bit of a mad secret, but when he wasn't coming up with new gags for the joke shop, he was creating security systems and planting them at his family and friends' homes. Of course, George being George, each invention was still inherently humorous. That didn't make his intention any less serious, however.

A knock on the door sounded, and Katie swung it open to greet both her parents at the door. Her father hugged her tight and her mother stroked her hair affectionately. Gladys Bell took one look around Katie's new home and nearly burst into tears.

"Mum, Mum! It's okay!" Katie cried, getting a little emotional herself. Moving out of her home (though it was not her childhood home) was the most difficult part of the arrangement, as it meant leaving her parents behind. And now, greeting her parents in her own house, she was feeling the distance a little too keenly.

"Oh, darling," her mother sobbed, "You're all grown up! And now you've got your own place…"

"Aw, Mum," Katie let out a watery giggle, "Don't start or I will!"

Katie's father took the whole situation with mostly pride and panache. "Good place you've made for yourself here, love. I'm glad to know they're taking care of you here." He grinned. "Expect to have your mother and me over on some weekends. We'll have lunch! And then you'll tour me around, won't you, kid?"

"Sure, Dad. Come over on some weekdays too," Katie assured him. "Or else… I'll visit you!"

"You darn well should! But you're always welcome to come home, Kates."

"You're a big girl now, living on your own…" Katie's mother gripped her shoulders. "So we brought you this." She handed Katie a framed picture of their family. She was around eight or nine in the photo, and sat on her mother's lap as her father tickled her.

"Thanks Mum, Dad," Katie felt her eyes prick with tears.

"Aw, love," cooed her father, pulling her in for a hug. "You'll always be my little girl. Even when I know you're perfectly capable of kicking those Tornadoes' rumps!"

George swung an arm around Angelina's shoulders. "I remember when I moved out of the Burrow," he mused. "I'm also a big boy now, you know."

"Shut it, Weasley." Angelina quirked her lips to one side. "Hey Katie! Care to feed us yet?"

Katie pulled out of her father's embrace and said, "Sure, er, right when Oliver gets here!"

But Oliver didn't come. Less than ten minutes of waiting in, a Puddlemere Squad Owl arrived with a note and a package from the Keeper. Trying to suppress her disappointment, Katie offered it a treat and took its delivery.

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><p><em>Dear Kates,<em>

_Hope this finds you on time. I feel terrible for saying this, but I cannot make it to your party. Training was extended because Davies was being a ponce. Coach Nolan is in a fit and plans to keep us here 'til midnight. If I want to keep my bollocks I'll have to stay! Can't tell you much more – I've only got half an hour to rest before training resumes. Feel free to imagine me being tortured, and consider it my penance._

_I've sent a tiny consolation gift, though! My cousin Albert gave me this cassit (is that how it's spelt? Cassit?) tape of this Muggle fellow named Steely Dan when I moved in to my flat. He says it's real house party music, and I quite liked it. I just can't remember the spell you need to use to play it. So here, it's yours. My real housewarming gift will have to wait until I see you._

_Until then,_

_Oliver_

_P.S. I'm keeping this Portkey for future use, just so you know._

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><p>Katie grinned at the note. "It's <em>cassette<em> tape, Oliver."

"Well?" asked George. "I take it Casanova isn't coming?"

"Uh," Katie frowned, "No. And neither is Oliver. So let's just eat, hmm?" As her friends and family sat at the table, Katie took the tape Oliver sent and played it with a modified _Sonorus_. Relaxed, funky music resounded, and Katie could understand why Oliver liked the band. (Or was Steely Dan a single Muggle?) Each instrument was individually strong and distinct, but they came together cohesively to form awesome songs. A few plates and glasses of wine in, Katie was sated and happily dancing with George to the looped music of the cassette.

_Way back when in 67 _

_I was the dandy _

_Of Gamma Chi _

_Sweet things from Boston _

_So young and willing _

_Moved down to Scarsdale _

_And where the hell am I _

"I like this song," gurgled George, "Or what I can hear of it anyway! What is this Muggle saying!" he twirled Katie round.

"I don't know! Let's give it a listen!"

_Hey Nineteen _

_No we can't dance together _

_No we can't talk at all _

_Please take me along _

_When you slide on down_

"Uh-oh," laughed George, obviously more than a little tipsy. Katie raised an eyebrow, slightly uncomfortable at his insinuation.

"Doesn't mean a thing, George Weasley, and you know it."

"Know what, Katie Bell?"

"Oh, you lot are impossible!"

It was a quarter to midnight when Angelina decided George had had enough to drink, and Katie's mother declared her daughter needed to rest for her training the next day. The guests let themselves out, and Katie turned off Oliver's tape. With an exhausted sigh, she crawled off to bed. She didn't even realize she'd forgotten to sleep in her gear.

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><p><strong>AN: HELLO! I'm alive! And sorry for this Oliver-less chapter :( What a way to come back, eh? But they can't be together all the time, I'm afraid! No matter, more to come in the following chapters! Interviews! Photo ops! And lots of QUIDDITCH! I know I don't deserve it for not updating in so long, but do leave me a review!**


	11. Where's the Quidditch?

**A/N: I wasn't gone too long, was I?**

**Chapter 11 - Where's the Quidditch?**

Wherein Katie and Oliver get stuck doing other things.

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><p>"Er, Bruna?"<p>

The Keeper exhaled long. "Yes, Katie?"

"I don't mean to offend - this is great and all, but are we actually going to play ourselves some Quidditch today?"

"The day's barely started, Katie, and you should know -"

Coach Caroline, who was leading the day's two hour-long yoga session, put in, "Breathe in deep, Katie Bell, that's it - good form, Bru. Aaaand bring it back down to Warrior 2, core tight, girls, sink lower..."

"Yoga's important," Bruna sank down into the pose, her face conveying deep serenity. "It gives you the balance and flexibility you need to stay on your broom while knocking arseholes off theirs."

"How are you even doing that...! Look, I never thought Gwen could be that flexible." Jones was on her mat several feet away, holding her legs low over her mat like an Amazon poised to kill.

"Just... breeeeeathe into the pose, you know? Feel the stretch, don't fight it. Be one with your hamstrings."

Katie sighed, closed her eyes and followed the sequence she'd repeated around three times thus far. Legs shaking in protest, she leaned back into Crescent pose, cracking her back in the process. Whoever said yoga was fun had to be off their rocker.

"This isn't fun," Katie whispered, bending forward to touch the floor. "I didn't think I'd get this tired from just staying still." She knew she was being immature, but she had a brand new broom to fly! She'd gotten dressed in all her gear just to be made to strip back down into her sports bra, for Merlin's sake!

"Y'know, for someone who's spent all that time posing for photos, you sure whine a lot about this." Bruna kicked her legs out into a plank. Katie followed suit, feeling affronted. She opened her mouth to retort, but saw the Keeper smiling jovially. "Don't worry. You'll learn to love it. We all did. I mean, just look at Coach King - she obviously can't get enough."

Katie pushed up into Mountain pose and glanced towards their coach's corner. Coach King was asleep on her mat, a thin line of drool trailing down the side of her perfectly painted mouth. "She's obviously a morning person," Katie solemnly observed, bending back over.

"You could say that."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in Puddlemere, Oliver woke up sore. Yesterday had been was one of grueling practice like no other - an idiotic blunder from Davies coupled with some careless words had set off Coach Nolan's temper and affected the entire team. Oliver would have understood if Davies' mistake had simply been an accident, but the new Chaser had been caught with a stash of magically cultivated marijuana in his possession, and the bloodshot eyes to prove he'd just used the stuff. Coach Nolan had gotten angry. Furious. Apoplectic with rage - and that was before Davies grinned and uttered the words that would doom them all: "Want some, Coach?"<p>

"Want some?" Coach Nolan had asked in a dangerously low tone. And then he bellowed, "WANT SOME? I'LL GIVE YOU SOME, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" He'd taken out his wand and started casting hexes in their direction. They all knew to run far, far away.

But the Coach wasn't done. Over his long ranting spell (a homily, yelled), he followed the Puddlemere Squad and made them do hundreds of rounds of sprints, core exercises, plyometrics, and even more sprints without rest nor water breaks. They were completely winded, and it hadn't even hit noon yet.

Davies had long since thrown up, but Coach Nolan took no pity. Though the rest of the team had to do the same drills, Davies had it twice as bad with Coach Nolan breathing down his neck. "Not so fun now, eh? That'll teach you to mess around with drugs in MY STADIUM!" Davies was only lucky that Management didn't decide to suspend him. After all, the season hadn't started yet.

Oliver groaned as he sat up, mustering the strength to stand and walk to his medicine cabinet. His memory of what happened after the midday break was blurry - after writing to Katie and eating a meager lunch, he'd returned to the stadium to be greeted with Quidditch drills. Coach Nolan hadn't calmed down - he was still fuming when he had Davies and the rest of the Chasers to take shot after shot - hundreds! - past Oliver. The Keeper was granted a reprieve, however, when a spent Davies threw the Quaffle wildly and hit him smack in the face. The Beaters, Wilson and Borodin had enough humor left in them to laugh at him (they'd just been sitting around, really) that Coach Nolan gave Oliver a break and forced them to take his place. They weren't laughing much after that.

It wasn't that Davies was a legitimate druggie - he just had a tendency to be selfish when it came to having fun. Oliver remembered back when Professor Sprout caught the Ravenclaw team harvesting mushrooms Davies had illicitly planted in the Greenhouse. But Davies being, well, Davies, he somehow managed to pass the whole scheme off as a science experiment. Everyone who knew was sure that Professor Sprout didn't believe him, but he got away with just a slap on the wrist and a few detentions. _"Too bad,"_ Oliver thought. _"We would have won the Cup for sure that year."_

He shifted the bottles in his cabinet around, looking for the right potion to ease his muscle pain. He smacked himself in the face when he remembered he'd given the last flask to Katie. He'd have brewed some more, but he'd always been dismally poor at Potions. Usually he just asked some from the Medi team. None of them were in the compound that early, however. Then he had the brilliant idea of asking Isadora Fairfax, who lived a floor (or was it two?) above him. She wasn't the most trustworthy teammate, but she knew her potions. Hobbling into the lift, he tentatively pressed the number 15 and waited for it to rise. It promptly came to a stop, and Oliver rang the doorbell. A few seconds, then nothing. As he raised his hand to press it a second time, the doors swept open to reveal an intensely cranky Chaser.

"Well. You're ugly this morning, Wood." Isadora herself wasn't her regular picture of poise - the shadows under her eyes were deep, and her expression was one of exhaustion. Oliver surmised that he must look the same way. "What do you want?"

"Er, good morning to you, too."

She glared at him, cross. "Unless you're here to sex the pain in my body away, then get the fuck out. It's fucking eight in the morning and I intended to sleep the fuck in."

Oliver's skin prickled, but he ignored her blatant (and profanity-ridden) proposal. It was certainly not the first time Fairfax had propositioned him that way, but she was usually drunk and a lot more personable when she did. And while she was by all means a very attractive woman, Oliver felt it was his responsibility to keep things professional. Plus, Isadora was a very frightening woman depending on the day and the hour. "Hormones," she always said. No man on the team dared question her. She should have been on the Harpies. The thought amused Oliver marginally.

"I was just going to ask if you had some of that relief potion. I'm all out."

"Then why the hell did you come over here without a fucking shirt on? Decency - heard of it?"

The Keeper looked down at himself self-consciously. "Oh."

"At least those bench presses have amounted to something, I'll give you that." But his request seemed to puzzle her - she obviously hadn't thought of using the relief potion herself. Finally she said, "Come in. I've got enough for two."

He shuffled into her pad and watched Isadora disappear into her bathroom. "So, uh, do we have practice today? I could use a day off," he laughed, trying to make conversation. Small talk was not his thing.

"Yeah right," he heard her snort. "As if the Golden Boy would ever take a day off from Quidditch."

"Hey, yesterday was pretty tough."

"Yeah, and you tell pony boy Davies that if he thinks that was bad, then he hasn't been acquainted with my fist. Where the fuck does he get off?"

Oliver rubbed the stubble on his chin. He hadn't shaved yet. "I don't know, I think he's had enough of that to last him a while - he'll behave." Mentally, he resolved to check on Roger later.

Isadora came back to her living room holding two small teacups. Handing one to Oliver, she said, "Cheers. To the _wanker_ who ruined my day. May he forever reek of grass and curry vomit."

Smirking, Oliver clinked cups with her and swigged the minty concoction down. Relief flooded his every muscle as he thanked a much more affable Isadora and got up to leave. The room swirled a little.

"What," she said roguishly, "You're not staying?"

* * *

><p>"Thank GODRIC that's over," Katie grumbled to herself as she hit the showers. Coach Caroline had somehow picked up on Katie's aversion to the exercise, and hovered around her as the session went on. As the poses grew more complicated, Katie felt herself getting more desperate. But Coach Caroline had thwarted any of her attempts to cheat. As the cool water pounded over her body, Katie let the frown on her face disappear. <em>"No yoga for two more days,"<em> she assured herself somewhat manically.

Over team breakfast, Coach King announced that they would be preparing for two things: a friendly warm-up game against the Arrows, and a press conference to announce the new lineup. She declared that they wouldn't mess around for either, and that strategy was everything.

"I want us to beat the Arrows, but I don't want you to reveal anything spectacular, Bell," she said. "We don't want to reveal our secrets just yet, do we? Anyway, we have some work to do with regard to team dynamics. Just in case, let Annie and Wilda do the work. Glinds, catch the Snitch quick. I want them up and out of here before they figure us out." Murmurs went around.

"I don't know, Coach," interjected Vanna Dermont. "Aren't the friendlies for practicing team dynamics? What's wrong with letting them know just what the new Harpies can do? The fans will just love Katie!" She winked in the Chasers' direction. Jones rolled her eyes.

"That can wait. We'll save Katie for when it counts the most." And that was final.

* * *

><p>Oliver woke up at noon to a grumbling stomach. His nap had been a good one, and save for his hunger, he felt revitalized. But he felt oddly discombobulated, and remained so until he realized he wasn't in his room. Sitting up, he pondered just how he ended up on Isadora Fairfax's fluffy carpeted floor. He moved to stand up, but his bottom appeared to be stuck to the floor.<p>

"Have a good nap, Wood?" came her voice from a corner. Oliver spun his head around and saw Isadora lounging lazily on her couch. She was dressed differently - from wearing a ratty shirt she'd changed into a silky black slip. Leisurely she slipped a spoon of ice cream in her mouth.

"Fairfax," he groaned, "Not again. We aren't doing this."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"Hmm. I'm not sure I do. Hungry?" she licked the spoon clean.

"No." His stomach betrayed him by growling loudly. Isadora quirked a brow at him. "Look, Dora, this is getting old. The first few times I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt. But you have to know I don't appreciate getting sedated without my permission. See if I trust you with anything again."

"Meeeeerlin." She drew the name out exasperatedly. "You aren't my dad, Wood. Otherwise would I really want to shag you?"

"I'm sure you don't mean that, I -"

"I mean_ come on_. Even that mystery girl of yours got some loving, so I'm sure you've got it in you. I'm fucking repressed. And you aren't gay, Wood."

He'd heard this before. "I'm not." They stared one another down, Isadora's expression one of amusement, and his one of discomfort.

"So where do you put it?"

"What?"

"All the sexual frustration?"

"The... er...?"

"You know, the itch you need to scratch. I'm on a team full of fucking blokes and I still can't get a lay."

Oliver was aware that Isadora would never proposition the others the way she did him, but this conversation, though rehashed, was weird as always. "Well, you could try Davies."

Isadora snorted. "That fuckpuss can fester and die alone. I just need a shag buddy. That's where you come in. And we don't have practice today."

He blinked once, twice. "I've told you, Dora. No. Now would you unstick my butt? Please?" She rolled her eyes unapologetically and flicked her wand. Instantly his bottom felt free, and he got up to leave.

"Er, thanks."

"One day," she drawled, suddenly bored, "Your penis will fall off from disuse. Wouldn't that be a tragedy?"

Oliver felt his face grow hot, and he suddenly felt very naked. He turned to leave.

"By the way, that owl package on the table is for you. Opened mine already - it's the week's itinerary. We've got a game against the Kestrels in a couple of days. And then a shoot the day after. PR shite. Merlin knows you love _them_."

Taking it, the Keeper nodded his head. He didn't even hear the latter part of Isadora's statement. "The Kestrels, hmm?" his veins were throbbing with a new kind of excitement. "That'll be exciting." He hadn't played a real game of Quidditch since the war. Though the Kestrels game would be a friendly, he was giddy with the thought of playing with actual people. An actual game!

"Now if you were only capable of looking at a girl that way," Isadora remarked, "Then I'd believe you actually had a clue."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Now I'll be the first to admit this chapter wasn't entirely necessary. But I enjoy imagining what they'd be doing in the non-Quidditch time :) In any case, QUIDDITCH COMETH in the next installment! Still, let me know what you thought about this one! Yoga? Fairfax? Backstory? Any guesses? :)**

**Til next time,**

**I x**


	12. Unexpected Business

**A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! I meant to post this by Christmas, but I'm inefficient that way. This is rather long – another 5,000 words. Downside: No Christmas stuff! Upside: more Quidditch, and more Oliver, AND… a surprise! :O What could it be?**

**Read and enjoy! x**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12 – Unexpected Business<strong>

The September wind ripped harshly past Katie's ears as she dodged another Bludger. The Arrows had latched onto her as a target for this "friendly" match, as she had noticed the first few times iron balls were hit her way. She clutched the Quaffle tighter, looking around desperately for a teammate. "Annie!" she screamed, but the American was lagging far behind. Wilda, too, was struggling to get around a Beater who'd blocked her. Flying further forward, Katie was greeted by two burly Chasers zoning in on her rapidly. A trap! She pulled sharply on her broom. As if her Firebolt could read her mind, she found herself two meters above the Chasers, narrowly missing collision. With a stupefied laugh, Katie looked forward to see nothing before the goal but the Keeper. Listening hard for the telltale sound of a Bludger, she shot forward to attempt to score.

She knew she wasn't supposed to, but the Arrows were kicking their behinds and Glinda had so far been unsuccessful in the Snitch hunt. Damn it all – her competitive side argued for her to take the shot, and she did so with much gusto. With deadly aim, Katie chucked the Quaffle past the diving Keeper and into the leftmost hoop. Punching the air triumphantly, she checked the adjusted scoreboard, which now read HARPIES – 50, ARROWS – 80. She looked to where Coach King was watching, trying to read her expression. She didn't get to, however, for Wilda grabbed her arm and sent them both speeding in the opposite direction.

"Head in the game, Bell," she growled. "Annie's down. You take right, I'll round up the left. We'll go for twosies until she's back."

"What – where?"

"Just go!" Wilda released Katie's arm with enough force to propel them both apart, and they zipped off to catch up with the Arrows. Katie flew past the lone female Chaser, and cautiously flanked the one who'd been holding the Quaffle. Her frenzied teammate was on his left, but his face betrayed no emotion.

Wilda screamed her name. She looked up and saw the Quaffle flying free. Briefly, she made contact with the Arrows Chaser, and they both tore after the loose ball. They collided as her fingers grazed the Quaffle, but she managed to hit it back to Wilda, who took the steal all the way back and into the goal hoop.

HARPIES – 60, ARROWS – 80, read the scoreboard.

Katie barely had time to process the goal when the Arrows took the rebound and began their journey towards the other goal again. But before any play could be made, loud whizzing noises sounded from below, where Glinda and the Arrows' Seeker, Gregory Cotton, were locked in a tight race for the Snitch. The golden ball in question had been flying around a mere foot above the ground, and all the players, meters above, looked on as their Seekers made to capture it. Katie missed it, but it was over in a second – Glinda had jumped off her broom to catch the Snitch by an inch. She lay on the grass, grinning triumphantly, as the game horn blared and the scoreboard adjusted to read HARPIES – 210, ARROWS – 80.

Katie opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over it before she could. Gwenog Jones. "Relax, Rookie, it's just a practice game. You've made enough noise today, I think."

"But we won! In our home stadium! Merlin – "

Gwenog shot her a look.

"Alright."

"Good dodging, by the way. Vanns and I had… er, a little difficulty. Back there." The Captain strained the last bit. If there was something Katie knew Gwenog hated, it was acknowledging weakness. A shadow passed over her face when Katie asked about Annie, who'd apparently gotten knocked out cold by a Bludger. "She's fine now," Gwenog reported. "But she'll miss out on the press conference."

The Harpies touched down as a collective and shook hands with the Arrows. The veterans exchanged murmured compliments, and the younger players looked on slightly awkwardly. Katie glanced at the lineup, meeting eyes once more with the tanned, wild-haired Chaser she'd collided with in the Quaffle scuffle. He gazed at her intently through his cerulean eyes, and she felt a blush creeping up her neck. She looked away awkwardly, and tried not to jump when she felt Bruna poking her side. She just knew the Keeper was grinning.

"What?"

"Not a thing."

As they made their way to the locker room, Katie pondered that he might not be much older than she. These thoughts were confirmed when the coaching staff discussed the game – the Arrows were mostly young players, and they relied on their physicality rather than wit and strategy. That was the Harpies' edge on them, so much so that the Harpies could play and score even with one Chaser down. Even so, they had a lot of work to do. While each unit of players was functional, they had yet to mesh as a complete system.

"But Bell, excellent job," Coach King chirped at her. "I'm beginning to think you're Bludger-proof, young lady."

"I'm sorry, Coach."

"What ever for?"

"You said you didn't want me to –"

"To score?" Coach King waved her arm dismissively. "That was the strategy. But you see, Quidditch is about knowing when to stick to it, and when to deviate. You're ballsy, kid, I like that. And you got it right today. I'm very pleased." Katie tried to suppress a grin as the room gave her a round of applause. "Other than that," Coach King continued, "You need to focus 110%. No ogling cute blokes, Missy. What's the word on the press conference?"

"The Kestrels and the Cannons will be joining us at 4," reported Amy the secretary, double-checking her clipboard.

"Alright. Ladies, get cleaned up. We'll meet at HQ at 3. Amy, have the convoy Portkeys ready by then."

Katie took her time to clean up and ponder over the game as she got ready. It was over in about an hour, but would all games be this fast-paced? She found herself a little frustrated over certain things, like how easily distracted she was. And how Gwen and Vanns didn't quite have their backs at all times. And how truly difficult it was to be all females playing against men. But confronted with the very same questions at the press conference, she couldn't quite voice these concerns.

"Katherine! How does it feel to replace the great Joan Gafton on the Harpies lineup?" asked the one interviewer as the floor opened for questions.

"Well, I, er –" Her own amplified voice startled her a little.

"Miss Bell! What about the Tornadoes' offer? Why did you choose not to play for the number one seeded team in the League?" screamed another reporter. Flashbulbs went off.

"Katie Bell! You're the first rookie player the Harpies have fielded in three years. How does that make you feel?"

"Uh, I –"

"How do you feel you will contribute to the Harpies' current difficulty with meshing together, in spite of their history?"

"Do you think the season will be tough playing in a male-driven sport?"

"ENOUGH!" Gwenog banged her fist on the table, silencing the crowd. "Let her speak. And you," she glared at the reporter who'd ask the last question, "You take that up with me." He nodded timidly, terrified.

All eyes were on the young Chaser, quills at the ready. Katie cleared her throat, but chickened out of answering the last few questions directly. She wrung her fingers and settled on a diplomatic answer: "Er, it's too early to say. But I'm lucky to have a great set of mentors and teammates, some of whom," she glanced at Jones, "Are both to me. I'm just one girl on a team of amazing women, and I'm very happy and grateful to be here."

The press clamored for more, but Coach King shouted, "Just two more questions!" The press groaned in disapproval. Coach King held her ground. "That's what you lot get for being so damn impatient." They quieted down.

"Miss Katie!" one hand shot up, taking the chance. Katie nodded in its direction. "How has training been given your medical history?"

She wrung her fingers. "If by 'medical history' you mean the curse, fortunately I've long since made a full recovery, and it no longer affects me. I'm not gonna lie, though, training's been tough. Most especially," she grinned at Coach King, "The early morning hours. But I'm getting there, and I feel ready." This answer, she found, was the truth. In the couple of weeks she'd been training with the Harpies, her body had already begun to change. She'd gotten leaner, faster and more muscular. She also ate more.

Hands shot up and Katie picked one reporter from the back. "Miss Bell! What jersey number have you chosen?" Katie laughed. She watched as the journalists in the room turned their heads to glare at the young reporter. Looking at Lara Svityensky (who had come along), she said, "Well, that's actually a great question. I'd like to keep my jersey number from Hogwarts – number 12."

Lara nodded her head and, evidently prepared, ceremonially conjured the number onto one of Katie's training jerseys. The naff journalist was forgotten as the rest turned to document the moment. Quills scratched and flashbulbs went off as the team manager handed it to Katie and shook her hand, officially minting her a Harpy. The attendees and Harpies present cheered Katie on, and Gwenog gave her a tentative pat on the back. "Welcome to the team, er, officially."

"Thanks, Gwen."

Buzzing, Katie sat back down. The crowd calmed and Lara gave the floor to the Kestrels, who were staging a comeback in spite of their veteran lineup. Katie listened, rapt, as their Seeker, Aidan Keily, answered his own barrage of questions.

"Mr. Keily, how have your friendly matches gone so far?"

"Aye, we won most, save that against Puddlemere to be honest, we lost by quite a margin," replied the Irishman stoically. "Puddlemere's been preparin' quite well for the season – my money's on them to take it through to the Finals."

This stirred up quite a ruckus – Puddlemere United was always a big favorite amongst the press. "Mr. Kiely! What attributed to this loss? How do the Kestrels plan to proceed from here?"

The Seeker laughed good-naturedly. "Well, for certain I'll have to get to that Snitch sooner than Williams – he's a sneaky one, and I'm not as quick as I used to be. But overall we old timers may have to work on strategic offense this Fall. Their Keeper is a beast, I'll have you know."

"And is Oliver Wood a big threat to you?"

"I daresay he's a threat to any Chaser in the League, save for his own teammates. The lad's only in his second season but he plays with natural athleticism and maturity beyond his years. He's young, fit, diligent, and smart. That's the kind of young blood we need in this sport. Puddlemere's players at large are massively strong at defense. They should be very proud."

"What can we expect from the Kestrels in your upcoming matches?"

"Tighter execution, to be sure: harder passes, throws; We've got our work cut out for us. In the future we expect to…."

Katie didn't hear any more of the Kestrels' interview, and zoned out completely during the Cannons' – she felt utterly giddy and slightly star struck over Kiely's assessment of her friend. If only she could sneak off and owl Oliver...

* * *

><p>"I really don't want to do this."<p>

"I'm sure you don't mean that. Now hold still, sweetums."

"Please," Oliver begged Priscilla the PR Pogrebin. He uncharitably referred to her after a hairy stalker demon in his head – just knowing she was from Puddlemere's public relations team was enough for him to detest her. "Please just get Flanner to do it? Just this once. Please."

"Sean Flanner? Hmmm. He hasn't had a spread in months! Done. He'll be part of the set with you." She straightened his robes with her chubby, over-manicured fingers.

"With me? Don't you mean _instead of_ me?"

"Well aren't you funny? You're the one the fans want to see, love! Not to mention the ladies," she winked, clawing playfully at Oliver's chest. "Rawwrrr." He shuddered and tried not to recoil. "Do it for them! Honestly, love, you should just accept that you've become something of a sex symbol."

"A… what? You lot know I… I don't like this sort of stuff," he mumbled. He knew from day one that these photo ops would be part of the fame package, but never did he think he'd be the subject of so many frivolous articles.

"Oh, nonsense. It can't be Quidditch all day, you know. You need a life! If you had one, then maybe you wouldn't be stuck with us. So suck it up, mister!"

Oliver sighed, knowing that to a degree she was right. But he _did_ have a life… right? He sat down, resigned. It really could have been worse – Priscilla and the set director originally planned on him and Davies being oiled up and shirtless. But thanks to an unsightly chest bruise he'd acquired at a match against the Wanderers, that idea was scrapped in favor of their new blue uniforms. He watched as the PR team fussed over Davies, who, in contrast to him, looked chuffed to be there. Davies murmured something that caused the PR ladies to giggle with delight. "You _naughty _boy," one of them slapped him lightly across the chest.

A few minutes later, the doors swung open and in walked Priscilla the Pogrebin, pulling a reluctant Sean Flanner along by the arm. "Ah, Wood," he greeted Oliver, "I have reason to believe this was your doing? I'd like to think that PR knows I've outgrown this sort of thing."

"Er… no?"

Flanner raised a sharp brow. "You're a terrible liar. I was just getting ready to spend the evening with my Beatrice. Now look."

"At least we're not alone. Davies is obviously going to be the star of this… thing."

"Yeah, what _is_ this for?"

Oliver shrugged.

* * *

><p>"You did good, Katie. Glad that's over!" Bruna dusted imaginary dust off her hands. "Time to hibernate."<p>

"Sounds like a plan," Katie grinned back. "Being diplomatic is stressful."

"They love you already. I could use a seaweed wrap. Care to join?"

"Hate to cramp your style, ladies," Wilda interrupted, "But it seems you didn't get the memo."

"What do you mean?" Katie asked.

"If you mean Clips' notes," Bruna said flippantly. "They kind of ruin my day."

"Amy?" Katie mused. The secretary _was_ rather uppity.

Wilda laughed. "You'll enjoy this – we've got another appointment. I've got the Portkey right here, our entourage went ahead."

"What kind of gig?"

"Secret. That's what you get for not reading Clips' notes."

"All of us?"

"No, just us three, I'm afraid."

"Aw, can't Gwen go in my place?" Bruna pleaded. "She's the Captain!"

"She'd never do this kind of thing. They asked for us specifically, anyway. Besides, Bruna Geyser, there's a chance your favorite sex god might be there…"

"Oh, shut it, Wilda!"

Before Katie could ask, Wilda Portkeyed them away. With a loud _WHUMP!_, they landed in the middle of what looked like a very, very busy dressing area. Disoriented, Katie inspected her surroundings as a group of assistants scurried up to them.

"Everything alright, Miss Griffiths?" asked one, looking star struck.

"Would you like anything to drink, Miss Geyser?"

"Please, walk this way! Our interviewer will be with you in a moment."

They ushered Katie and her teammates into high stools, and one of them bellowed, "Get Hair and Makeup in here! The Harpies have arrived!"

Katie and Bruna exchanged glances, while Wilda yawned, already bored. "Er, Wilds?" Bruna asked finally, "Care to let us know where exactly we've arrived?"

Wilda quirked her lip to the side. "Witch Weekly. Rush shoot. They want this article in by the next publication, blah, blah. You know."

"Just look at me! I'm a fright!"

"Meh!"

Katie just furrowed her brows, failing to be psyched in the slightest. She was hardly in good shape for another interview. The door to their quarters swung open, and assistants poured in with snacks. Katie gratefully reached for a bag of crisps and slouched in her seat. She closed her eyes, relishing the flavor of comforting junk.

"Katie?" came a very familiar voice. Her eyes snapped open, and standing at the door was none other than Alicia Spinnet, nervously clutching a quill and some parchment. Katie's jaw dropped.

"Alicia," she whispered. A squeal ripped out of her throat as she leapt out of her chair to embrace her friend. The chair fell over, startling Bruna and Wilda, who were about to get their hair done. "I can't believe it!"

"They didn't tell me who I was interviewing… Merlin, you're in the HARPIES! Why didn't you write?" Alicia smiled, betraying nothing. Katie looked back at her, feeling even more puzzled.

"Alicia… I would have, I swear. But… I didn't know where to find you. No one did."

Her former teammate's face fell a little, and she pursed her lips. "Well, I'm here now. And you're here! So… maybe we can begin?"

Katie frowned, but proceeded to introduce Alicia to her new teammates. The interview went by much easier than the press conference did, in spite of the hairdressers and makeup artists shooting charms around them. Katie was happy to see that Bruna and Wilda had taken a real shine to Alicia. She had that effect on people – it was always easy to get along with her. Katie shouldn't have been surprised to discover she was a writer, though she didn't think that's what Alicia had exactly wanted.

"Leesh, if you don't mind my asking, what made you want to write for Witch Weekly?" Kati asked during a pause. Alicia hesitated, and then replied slowly, "I, uh… I actually just got back. They offered internships, so I went for it. It's just for a couple of months, maybe less."

"Got back from where?"

Alicia cleared her throat. "I'm the interviewer here, Katie," she tittered nervously. "This is hardly the time to discuss personal matters."

Bruna looked between them, concerned. "…Right," Katie replied finally. "You're right. Carry on."

"So, um, Katie," Alicia continued more uncomfortably, "Our readers will want to know more about you. What's your favorite color?"

"Oh come on, you know all that!"

"Just…!"

"Okay, blue! It's… it's blue." Katie was slightly shaken by her best friend's behavior.

"Thank you. And what's your favorite candy?" Alicia suddenly asked, very rushed.

"Er. Honeydukes chocolate coins. 'Leesh I –"

"Favorite song?"

"It's a Muggle song, I don't think –"

"Favorite Quidditch move?"

"You know the one we used to do, we'd jump off our brooms and –"

"Favorite Quidditch memory?"

Katie was growing awfully confused, but she answered anyway. "Winning the House Cup. Ol's last year... My fourth. Nothing beats winning with your best friends. You know," she said more gently, "We really should catch up. We could! I mean, I was just with Ol, Ange, and –"

"Don't say it," Alicia warned, holding up a hand. "Wait, you know what? This is… this is good. We're done for now, I'll just work with this questionnaire they gave. I'll answer it for you." She stood, rolling her scroll up.

"Alicia, wait."

Alicia paused at the door, turning back to look at Katie and the dumbstruck Harpies. "I'm sorry, everyone. It was very nice meeting you all. Just… I'll write. The article, I mean. See you around, Katie." And then she left.

Katie's mouth hung open. _"What?"_

"You have a real knack for getting interrupted," mused Wilda. "So… was she always like that?" She twirled a finger beside her head.

"I thought she was lovely," said Bruna. "But she seems very troubled."

"She isn't mad," Katie said worriedly. "I don't know the whole story, but she's going through a lot… alright, hang on." Getting up from her seat, she bolted out the door, her rollers bobbing on her head. "Alicia! Wait!" She weaved past assistants and people she identified vaguely as other players, searching for her friend. "Alicia! Alicia – _OOF!_"

Katie hit a hard wall of what turned out to be muscle, and looked up to see none other than – "Cap-… Captain? What are you doing here?" He looked silly with a too-small hairdresser's cape around his broad shoulders, and his normally neat hair was coiffed in a ridiculously metrosexual fashion. Had she not been in a hurry, Katie might have stopped to make fun of it.

"Kates?" He asked, running a hand self-consciously through his hair. "I could ask you the same. Whoa, careful." He grabbed hold of her arms to steady her, noting her demeanor. More urgently he asked, "Are you quite alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just…" Katie looked past him, "Alicia was here."

"What? How?"

"She interviewed us… and then she ran. Oliver, I'll tell you everything later. I have no idea what just happened but I've got to find her. Have you seen her?"

"I haven't," he responded. "But I'll help you."

"My, my," Wilda had caught up with them. "Where do you think you're going, Rookie?" She quirked a brow at Oliver. "Nice hair, Wood."

Oliver held a hand up to his head and grumbled. "I could say the same for you, Griffiths. Geyser," he acknowledged. The two Harpies, like Katie, still had huge rollers in their hair.

Wilda smirked. "So, who are you with?"

"Our rookie, Davies. And Flanner." Oliver cast a glance at Bruna, who looked away.

Katie observed them. "You guys already know each other?"

"Oh yeah," Wilda said. "Glinda was mad for this lunk – or should I say _hunk_? We nearly lost a game once because she was ogling him instead of Snitch-hunting." Oliver's ears tinged pink. Wilda continued, "Bruna, on the other hand, was busy ogling –"

"That's enough," Bruna interrupted quickly. "Did you find your friend?"

Oliver and Katie exchanged glances. "No. We were about to go…"

"_THERE_ you are!" cried a flamboyant Italian man who appeared to be the photographer. "Oliver Wood, you are flirt! Come on-a, it's your turn. Ladies, please! Join us!"

It seemed as if Katie's plan to find Alicia was thwarted – she would have been long gone. The group walked after the photographer to a white backdrop surrounded by lights and giggling ladies.

"My name is Mario, by the way. I am good friend of Raul Guido's." Mario went on to pull off Oliver's bib, and shoved him between an amused Sean Flanner and a more disgruntled Roger Davies.

Katie's eyes went wide. "It's Sean Flanner!" she nearly squealed, squeezing her teammates' arms. Bruna turned away, and Wilda smirked, "Yeah it is."

"I used to collect Puddlemere stickers with Oliver! He was my Chaser _idol_."

"Funny," Bruna griped, "He's a little… _old_ for you – I mean, us."

"Why, Bru? Jealous?" Wilda cackled.

"Not like that," Katie huffed. "Besides, he's the only one I'd get star struck over. I played with the other two back at Hogwarts."

"Okay, gentlemen." Mario clapped his hands. "Now cross-a your arms." They did as he said, and Davies made a show of pumping up his biceps. Mario snapped the photos, giving more instructions with frenzied hand gestures. "Now smolder, yes-a? A little more, Mr. Wood! Sexy look, please, not-a constipated. Sexy! That's it!" _Snap, snap, snap. _"Now growl like a _tigre_. YES, Mr. Flanner, OH, YES! YES! Make love to the camera! _Tigre! Tigre!_" _Snap, snap, snap._

"He sounds orgasmic over Flanner," Wilda remarked. Bruna rolled her eyes.

Katie couldn't hold in her laughter. While Davies appeared to be enjoying every moment (he even looked their way and winked), Oliver looked more uncomfortable than she'd ever seen him. He'd even broken a sweat, which assistants quickly (and aggressively) ran to wipe off. But before the shoot was over, the girls were pulled back by the frazzled hair and makeup team, who finished up their hair in voluminous waves before delivering them back to Mario. The Puddlemere boys were nowhere in sight, and Katie was only slightly disappointed.

"_Bellissima_," Mario fawned over them, and arranged them not unlike the Puddlemere boys before. He was much quicker about it, and Katie could detect that females were not his favorite subjects. They were done in merely five minutes, to her relief.

"Well, that's over with," she sighed. "Let's go home."

"Wait, wait, wait." The photographer scuttled over to her. "You stay right-a here, _bella_. I have another assign-a-ment for same article – the _Young Blood: Hogwarts' Rising-a Stars_." He waved a hand theatrically above them.

Katie's teammates appeared unsurprised. Wilda probably already knew about the appointment. Smugly waving goodbye, they touched their Portkey and vanished.

Katie frowned. "You want me in the spread?"

"Yes-a."

"Not to be rude, sir, but you've never even seen me play."

"No, but I see your shots. Raul – he showed me!" He tapped a finger on her nose. "Now come along, we don't want to keep the boys-a waiting!"

She walked back to the set sourly, but her expression lightened somewhat upon discovering Oliver hadn't left after all. He looked equally displeased to be there, and almost comical standing next to a very self-approving Roger Davies.

"Hey, Ollie." She greeted.

For the first time since she'd seen him, his face looked more comfortable. He offered a warm smile in return. "You look great, Kates."

"Thanks," she replied shyly. "You too."

"You sound really tired, though. Long day? I didn't get to ask."

"You could say that. Hey, Davies."

"My, my. Katie Bell. I see you're joining us in the big leagues now, huh? Can you handle it?"

"And I see your head hasn't deflated one bit."

"Oh, but you've missed me, haven't you? No? Not even a little bit?" Roger pouted.

Katie rolled her eyes. "I've only missed seeing the look on your face after your ass has been kicked!"

"My ass? I think you're flirting with me, Katie Bell!"

Oliver's face went a mild shade of puce. Katie rolled her eyes. "Gross, Davies."

"Places!" Mario snapped his fingers. The photographer could not have returned at a better time. "Here's how this is going to happen. Mr. Davies shall have-a his own-a panel in the magazine. Understand? He is very handsome over there. And then-a you two," he gesticulated excitedly, "Shall be in photo together! Two panels. Understand? Are you getting along?"

The three nodded their heads. Mario made quick work of Roger Davies, who, to Oliver's great dissatisfaction, blew Katie a kiss and winked as he Apparated out of the studio.

"Uh," Katie said, casting a tentative glance in Oliver's direction. "I guess that leaves us." She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact, and blushed to discover that the entire staff was watching. Self-consciousness kicked in.

"Wonderful! Now," Mario directed, "Smile-a for the camera!"

The two awkwardly quirked their lips to the side. "No, no, no! This will _not_ do. Are you not-a friends?!" cried the photographer.

Taken aback, the two replied, "Yeah?"

"We're friends, best friends," Oliver spluttered. Katie jerked her head awkwardly.

"You don't act like it! Move-a closer to one another! Good! Now, Mr. Wood, kindly sling your arm around her." Oliver took a breath and made to grip Katie's waist. He changed his mind and moved it up to her shoulder.

Katie and Oliver looked at each other, and immediately burst out into chuckles. "What?" _Snap! Snap!_

"Laughter works too," said Mario, somewhat relieved. "Give me more!"

Immediately more comfortable, Katie lightly bumped her head against Oliver. "Oy!" he cried, clutching his chest. "Nasty bruise," he winced.

"Oh, don't be such a baby. What happened to being merciless?" Katie near cackled, poking his chest a little harder.

Soon, the two forgot about the over-enthusiastic photographer and carried on cracking jokes at the expense of the other. Assistants handed them Quaffles, and they chatted animatedly while made a show of passing the balls to one another in increasingly complex ways. It was only when Mario delightedly walked out the building that they realized the shoot had wrapped long before they were done playing.

"This is a first," admitted Oliver as they walked to the Portkey area. "I don't really like –"

"You don't like this stuff, I know, Captain. I don't like it much, either."

"But what about…?"

"Oh, that," Katie blushed. "That was purely circumstantial. Raul Guido just kind of needed to keep me occupied, or something. I try not to think about it."

"Well… this was actually fun." Oliver ran a hand through his hair, messing it up.

"Yeah," Katie smiled. "I didn't think I'd see you here. This was nice."

"Maybe we should have our picture taken together more often," Oliver joked. Then just as quickly, he stammered, "I mean…"

"We should totally hang out," Katie replied a little too quickly. She nodded her head feverishly. "I mean… I'll owl Alicia, try to find her – she's in town, I know that much."

"Is… is that so?" Oliver cringed. He'd just made it awkward again. "Well… please let me know."

"Yeah."

"Yeah. And then," Oliver added, his voice unusually high, "Maybe we can… practice shooting, or…"

Katie nodded. "Sounds good."

Silence.

"I'd better get going," Katie released a breath she didn't know she was holding and stuck her thumb out behind her.

"Oh, don't let me keep you," Oliver said. "Er, no pun intended."

"That's awful, Captain. I don't really know how I'm gonna get back, to be honest," Katie admitted, "The girls took the Portkey, and I have no clue where we actually are. I'm rubbish at long-distance Apparition."

"Is that so?" he said thoughtfully. "Wait right here." He was gone for but a minute, and returned with his belongings. Shuffling through his bag's secret pockets, he procured a familiar-looking pouch. More playfully he announced, "I believe this goes straight to Holyhead."

"You keep my Portkey with you?"

Oliver dodged the question. "Correction – it's _my_ Portkey now. You gave it to me. I'm only lending it to you."

Katie grinned. "What good is owning a Portkey when you won't even use it?"

"You never know," the Keeper shrugged. "I've thought about it."

"Is that so? I'll make sure to give it right back."

"You better."

They exchanged grins.

"Thanks, Captain," Katie said finally. "I'll owl you. And Alicia." She hugged him tight, subtly taking a sniff of him. He smelled a little like hairspray, but mostly still like him – clean, manly, fresh. With a smile, she touched the Portkey and vanished.

A few seconds later, Katie swirled into her living room. She plopped down on her couch, giddily sniffing her jumper. It smelled like him. She then spotted steaming food on her table – a much-deserved dinner courtesy of the Harpies' elusive house elves. But before she could touch it, a flutter of wings caught her attention. Gwenog was already out hunting, but a letter lay on her windowsill. She took it up and opened it.

_Dear Katie,_

_It was so nice seeing you earlier. I'm sorry for the way I acted. I wasn't ready to talk, and I freaked out a little. But if you're free sometime next week, let's lunch. Please, just you and me. Well, I saw Oliver at WW, and if I know you, you'd have told him. So I suppose he can come too. Owl me, I'm at my mum's._

_Just don't tell Angelina and George. I'm not ready to see them yet._

_I've missed you,_

_Alicia_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Alicia's back :O I wonder if anyone saw that coming (because I sort of imagined her return to go down somewhat differently). In any case it'll work!**

**As a late Christmas gift to me (whether or not I deserve it – I think I'm on a bunch of people's naughty lists!), please please please leave me a review :) As always, Thank you for reading!**

**x Izzo**


	13. The Press and the Present

**A/N: Hi! I'm alive, but barely! Work's been killing me! I actually had some trouble writing this... I hope you enjoy it anyway! :) Also I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to a lot of reviews. I got your emails, but couldn't seem to respond :( This is for everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I love you all!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 - The Press and the Present<strong>

"Congratulations, Rookie. Your first piece of fan mail!" Wilda tossed Katie a brown, nondescript package. She sounded bored, but the grin pulling at the sides of her mouth gave her excitement away.

"_No_!" Katie squealed in disbelief, clutching the parcel to her chest. Earlier that morning, Katie arrived home after a heavy training session to find a horde of house elves bustling into her bungalow bearing bags of owl post. It turned out to be a little Harpies custom: every Monday, the girls took turns segregating the post and responding to them. That day was apparently Katie's turn, so she found herself sitting with Bruna and Wilda around a sizeable pile of letters and parcels.

"Well? Are you going to open it?" asked Bruna.

Katie grinned. "Can I?"

"No," Wilda deadpanned.

"Eee!" Katie tore the paper off what turned out to be a nondescript, leather-bound notebook. She opened it, only to find it completely empty, save for a scribble on the first page.

"What does it say?"

"Uh," Katie frowned. She couldn't understand the message. "Xs & Os."

"Hugs and kisses. Huh." Wilda quirked a brow.

"It's unsigned, though." She was a little disappointed.

"Oh, it's alright, Katie," Bruna smiled, "Believe me, there'll be lots more where that came from. You should see the bags we get when the season actually starts. I can imagine that the other teams get more, though. Wilds, this one's for you."

"Mmm," Wilda acknowledged, catching the letter and dropping it onto her own growing pile. She continued sorting and muttering robotically: "Gwen, Gwen, Vanns, mine, Gwen, Annie, Glinda, Annie... Oh, Bru, yours."

"Why would the other teams get more post?" Katie asked. She put the notebook aside, determined to inspect it later on.

"Well... infatuated fangirls are the number one source of mail. That sort wouldn't be writing to an all-witch team, now would they?" Wilda winked.

"See, Katie," Bruna patiently explained, "We get a lot of gifts and fan mail. Owls sent from strangers are forwarded to the Admin - well, the house elves. The Howlers and dangerous objects are disposed of by the elves - usually they're sent by fangirls of male players that want us to stay away from 'their' men... or maybe hormonal boys that send us love potions and things."

Wilda snorted. "They try."

"It's therapeutic, though," said Bruna. "I love reading letters after a hard day. The ones from children especially remind me of why I play Quidditch. Except when they're from randy boys asking for nude photos."

"Those are always nice." Wilda smirked.

"Wait," Katie interrupted. "Sorry. Personal mail doesn't get sorted, though."

"If the sender knows you personally, then the owl can deliver it straight to you. Why?"

Katie shook her head. "It's just... I was waiting for a letter." It had been less than a week since she'd seen Alicia at Witch Weekly, and replied to her ominous letter. The newest issue was due on stands that same day, but Katie was more anxious to receive a reply from her friend. So far, nothing. Had Alicia changed her mind?

Well, it turned out she hadn't, because later that same afternoon a personal owl did arrive. She offered it a treat and relieved it of its parcel, which contained three things: the newest issue of Witch Weekly, a little pouch, and a letter. She snatched the note quickly. _Alicia!_

_Dear Katie,_

_I'm sorry I took a few days to write. I hope you haven't gotten impatient with me. If you're free tonight, I've got you a Portkey to this little restaurant I just discovered called Brek-O-Day. They serve international breakfast food all day, which I know you love._

_I've also left you a copy of Witch Weekly's newest issue. Don't kill me, but I really like your feature with Ollie (and Davies). Maybe we can talk about it later, along with the other stuff. I've sent him a Portkey, too, in case you were wondering. See you at six?_

_Alicia x_

Katie penned an affirmative reply, anxious to talk to her friend. As Alicia requested, Katie had not told Angelina and George. She hadn't even told Oliver about it. She sent the letter off with Alicia's owl, and resisted the urge to owl Oliver. He'd be there, maybe. She then sat back down to inspect the magazine.

_Witch Weekly_, the title flashed. The headlines framed the moving snapshot of the Ballycastle Bats. _Pro Quidditch, O WoW! Your Definitive Guide to the League's Hotties!_ and, _The Girlfriends of Quidditch! Could YOU Be Next? - How to Bag That Quidditch Player!_

Also: _Beauty Spell Haul! Banish Those Bunions For Good!_

"Merlin." Katie flipped the busy pages with some trepidation. It appeared that a handful of teams were included. She landed on Puddlemere's spread, and ghosted her fingers across the photograph. Thrust in the middle, an uncomfortable-looking Oliver was being jostled by Roger Davies and Sean Flanner. They flexed their biceps, flashing cheesy grins at the camera. Oliver just crossed his arms, grimacing. If Katie hadn't known him, she might have thought he was just hamming it up along with the others. The accompanying write-up was exceedingly generous, ridiculous, and hardly related to Quidditch:

_Best In Show: Puddlemere United_

_Who comes to mind when you say Handsome Quidditch Men? Puddlemere, of course! Boasting the best in books and looks, these lads have got as much game as they've got face. Don't believe us? Take a gander at Sean Flanner, 32. The two-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award has still got what it takes to make us witches hot, hot, hot! Is it just us, or does Puddlemere's new blue uniform make his eyes look even bluer? Sigh! How is he still single!_

_Don't forget about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Is there anyone more mysterious than Oliver Wood? What secrets does he Keep (classic pun) behind those perfect lips? He's not one to kiss and tell (not since he'd broken up with Amber Guest, anyway - and she did the telling). Nor is his smoldering gaze revealing - but what he lacks in public smiles tells us he's got a lot more to give in private!_

Katie snorted. "Ha! That's no smolder! He's scowling, at best."

_Hot on our radars is rookie Chaser, Roger Davies. Watch out, witches, this one looks like a bona fide Player! He's got the smile and appeal of a matinee idol, and he's already enchanted us with his winning charm. What do you think? For more exclusive photos, turn to page 37!_

Cringing, Katie hazarded a guess that page 37 would contain their ridiculous spread. She skimmed through Davies' fun facts panel (which unfortunately listed his unabashed fondness for "breasts the size of cauldrons") and skipped a couple of write-ups until she found the Harpies' page. The photo featured Bruna smiling prettily next to Wilda, who flipped her hair and flashed an unreadable grin at the camera. Katie raised her brow at the image of herself, which raised an equally skeptical brow back at her. It was a decent photo, but she knew it was nothing Miss Raul would be happy about. The article was unsigned. Curious.

_The Holyhead Harpies: The Girls We'd Love to Hate_

_Last week, we were reintroduced to some of the witches that make us proud to be women. The Holyhead Harpies are back with a vengeance, and with some surprises up their sleeve. Upon the untimely passing of their star Chaser, Joan Gafton, they set off to find the perfect successor. Introducing Katie Bell, the youngest in the nest. We at Witch Weekly think she's got what it takes to be the Next Big Thing, if she isn't it already._

_So how does a team comprised solely of women strike a balance? Wilda Griffiths tells us..._

It was a good read. Alicia had certainly done their team justice. Although Katie read Alicia's praise and predictions for her with a little awkwardness, she was proud of Alicia for writing such a substantial article. _"This certainly beats the Puddlemere write-up,"_ Katie thought.

She flipped to page 37 and saw a photo set called _Young Blood: Hogwarts' Rising Stars_. The image of Roger Davies spun a Quaffle atop his finger. He smirked at something off camera, and winked. Katie moved her gaze to the starkly different photo that she and Oliver greatly surprised her - Oliver looked utterly candid as he bounced a Quaffle off his head. He was clearly showing off - a big change from his usual magazine demeanor. He had a huge grin on his face, and Katie noticed for the first time that he'd reached out to grasp her forearm. She appeared to be clutching his forearm right back. Did that really happen? Photo-Katie obviously didn't notice. She pulled her hand away to catch the Quaffle, batting it back towards him with a playful grin. The real Katie felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She turned back to read the write-up.

_Exclusive! Young Blood: Hogwarts' Rising Stars_

_There must be something in the water down in Scotland, because everyone's favorite Wizarding school has produced not one, not two, but three of the most promising young players in recent years to join the Quidditch League's ranks. The current trend in pro Quidditch is outsourcing talent, so we're glad to see some some fresh British blood in the mix._

_But do Houses come into play here? Maybe not, but our exclusive set of photos are telling. In the next few pages, get familiar with Puddlemere's new Chaser, former Ravenclaw Roger Davies, and see their Gryffindor Keeper, Oliver Wood, in a whole new light. The cause of his distraction? We've pegged his former Gryffindor teammate, the gorgeous Katie Bell of the Holyhead Harpies. (Photographs by Mario Giacomo.)_

The text alarmed her for reasons she couldn't comprehend. She turned the page and found even more photos. Roger's photo depicted him closing his eyes and extending his arms dominantly to the side, reveling in the flash of the camera.

The photo next to it, again, was starkly different. She and Oliver were just... laughing. She clutched his arm with one hand as she threw her head back blithely, her curly ponytail shaking as she wiped a tear with her other hand. Oliver looked equally carefree. His eyes crinkled a little, he smiled with his teeth, and his arm snaked around her waist to support her in an endless loop. The Quaffle was nowhere in sight - Katie remembered having accidentally bounced it off the head of a Puddlemere PR lady in the background. Candid as it was... she had to admit it wasn't a bad photo. _Not even close..._

A smile threatened to tug at her lips, but Katie shut the magazine and shoved it between her couch's cushions. It would not do to assume anything... but her hands prickled with giddiness all the same.

Six o'clock came along and Katie Portkeyed away. The air smelled of bacon and pancakes, which was unusual given the hour. Her stomach grumbled. Alicia knew her so well.

* * *

><p>"Soooo? Did you see the spread?" Alicia was in very good spirits that evening.<p>

"Y...es," Katie admitted grudgingly as she struggled not to grin. "Alicia, I can't -"

"You two. Are. So. Cute."

"Oh, please. It's been years."

"But you still like him." It wasn't a question. Katie gaped like a goldfish. Couldn't people just drop it?

"Nothing can happen, see -"

"Spare me," Alicia rolled her eyes. "You're always that, but I still fail to see any reason why not."

"Because!" Katie was indignant, and flustered. "I'm... me, and Oliver's... he's... Mr. Famous Nice Guy Quidditch Nazi and you can't date your teammate and he's my best friend and... Oliver's... Oliver's..."

"Oliver's what?" an amused voice came from behind them.

The girls turned their heads to see none other than the subject of their discussion.

"Oliver's... here?" Katie weakly replied as he gave Alicia a small hug in greeting.

"So it would seem," he grinned, sitting down. "Alicia, we've missed you."

"Hey, Ollie," she smiled. "It's good to be back."

"What were we talking about?" Oliver took the menu Katie thrust at him, a little puzzled.

"Noth-"

"Your spread!" Alicia cheerfully tossed a copy of Witch Weekly at him, earning a panicked stare from Katie.

"What's this?"

"Nothing. You can look later," Katie grabbed it back, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. "Let's order."

Oliver looked warily at the two girls. "Al...right."

The girls' pancakes had arrived, as had Oliver's hefty sausage meal, by the time they'd finished filling Alicia in on all Quidditch-related stories. She was in a very good mood, so much so that when Oliver asked, "So, what have you been up to, Spinnet?" she answered him straight.

"Well... getting over George, for one," she laughed, though it didn't sound as light as it did earlier. "Whew. I just thought I'd get that out."

The table went silent. Alicia looked to Katie, who nodded supportively. "Well? Don't stop eating _now_." Her friends readily obeyed.

Katie swallowed her food and asked, "Vacation, then?"

"Sort of, but no," Alicia shook her head. "I've actually been doing some freelance work... research and writing, you know?"

"On what?"

"Rare spells the Ministry can use or develop into new ones. I was like a junior Curse-Breaker that didn't go in the field." Alicia said in a hushed voice. "It's kind of a secret. A few weeks after the Battle, I... Well, my dad had some connections and I jumped at the chance. The Ministry has its own department but they send people abroad... I just needed to get away from... you know." She glanced at Oliver apologetically, quieting down again.

Katie could sense Alicia's discomfort, as, surprisingly, could Oliver. He got up, wiping his mouth. "Excuse me, girls." Squeezing Alicia's shoulder reassuringly, he walked off to the breakfast bar, which was serving up Bloody Marys and alcohol-spiked milkshakes.

Alicia slouched in her seat. "It's been so lonely, Katie," she sniffled. "I really missed you guys."

"We missed you too. All of us," Katie assured her. "But what couldn't you tell Oliver?"

"Yeah, well. It's nothing, really. I actually enjoyed a little, you know. I went to Egypt... wrote a paper there on some runes and hieroglyphics on these ancient Flight Charms, and also there was this Shrinking Curse... But then I ran into Bill Weasley so that was a little strange..." Alicia was babbling. Katie didn't know where the story ended or began, so she dropped her utensils and held Alicia's shoulders.

"Leesh. Leesh. Slow down."

"Sorry."

"It's alright," Katie said. She looked up to find Oliver eyeing them concernedly, and offered him a small smile. He looked funny standing there with his strawberry milkshake, but he made no move to return.

Alicia followed her gaze wistfully, and said, "He's obviously still nuts about you, Katie. I miss that. I miss... I miss George. And Ange. I wonder if... you know, if h- they miss me."

Katie wanted to protest, but Alicia had finally broached the subject of George and Ange. She couldn't argue now. "Is that why you left, then?"

"I had to regroup, I guess. I don't remember ever feeling so... betrayed? I never thought that he'd... they'd..." Alicia faltered. "Well, I can't be angry. I was at first, but I can't be. No one can help how they feel."

"But they can help how they act," Katie blurted. She didn't like the feeling of having to choose a side, but having Alicia bordering on tears was really affecting her.

"Oh, Katie," Alicia picked at her food. "The only real choice _was_ to act. Fred died, okay? We lost a friend. Angelina lost a boyfriend; George, a brother. I'm actually glad you weren't around to see it, but we were all just so unhappy. And if I hadn't... done anything, then we'd all still be unhappy. I don't want that for any of us."

Katie wrung her napkin, frustrated. "You deserve happiness, too."

"Everyone does, but they needed it more. They needed each other, you know? I could tell. After the Battle, Ange and I stayed with the Weasleys awhile, to mourn. Late at night I'd feel her leave our room, then I'd see her and George meet in the garden and just... talk. They'd whisper to one another for hours. I'd catch them sharing looks and mugs of tea, then they'd look all guilty and stop talking to each other for days." Alicia wiped a tear away. "It was awful. But now that I'm out of the way, they have a shot at healing with each other. I just need to find my own happiness."

"You were never in the way," Katie argued.

"I was. They didn't want me to know the stuff they talked about, and I don't think they wanted anything to happen between them anyway. But I wrote them a letter and left without saying goodbye. George and I haven't actually spoken about breaking up, but... he knows it's over. He hasn't written. Nor has Ange."

"They don't know where to find you! They don't even know you're back in town. Did you even want them to write?"

Alicia shook her head. "When I'm ready. Don't worry about me, Kates, I'll be okay. Research has been good for me. I've been finding my way back into Quidditch, slowly but surely." She turned her head and gestured for Oliver to come back. He did, and sat back down warily.

"Good talk?" he asked, sipping from his milkshake. Katie resisted the urge to ask for some.

"Yeah," Alicia replied as brightly as she could muster. "I'm getting back into Quidditch!"

Oliver's face brightened. "Really!"

"Hopefully! Slowly but surely. Not playing, of course. I'm just biding my time writing at Witch Weekly before I move to something else, maybe... spell research for a broom company? Firebolt? Cleansweep? I've been studying some magic behind stuff like that. It's actually pretty fun!"

"That's great!" Oliver nodded enthusiastically, waving his milkshake.

"Careful, Ol!" cried Katie, but her warning fell on deaf ears.

"When you do, could you send me a few prototypes - under contract I'm supposed to behave myself but I'd love it if I could try some out before -"

"Ah, there's our Quidditch Nazi," Alicia laughed.

Oliver stopped mid-breath. "Sorry."

"I've really missed you guys," Alicia said again, good humor restored.

Later, Alicia made her leave, mentioning that she had an early call time the next day. With a knowing look at her friends, she departed.

"So, er," Katie fiddled with her sleeve knowing Alicia would kill them if she found out all they talked about after she left was her. "How was your week?"

"Good," Oliver replied, his face a little scrunched. Their encounters seemed to begin this way these days - just a little awkward, as they struggled to get their footing. "We beat Pride of Portree today."

Katie snorted. "As if that was difficult for you."

"They've gotten better, I'll have you know... And you?"

"Eh, not much. Played the Catapults 'til sunset the other day - we called it a draw. Then this morning I sorted fan mail with Wilds and Bruna."

"Did you, now?" Oliver's interest was piqued.

"Mhmm." Katie nodded. "I got my first piece of fan mail!"

"_Did_ you, now?" He repeated, more amused.

"Yeah, though I bet it's nothing compared to what you must get. And it was pretty odd as far as fan mail goes. It was just a notebook with 'Xs and Os' written on the first page. Hugs and Kisses, ha ha!" she cracked.

"That's not what it meant!" blurted Oliver, all traces of amusement suddenly gone from his face.

Katie blinked. "Eh?"

"I mean... er, that is to say..."

"Captain," she understood his fidgeting, "Did _you_ send me that journal?" Her heart beat a little faster.

"No! I mean, yes. I did. But through the regular post. It was..." he sighed, "It was supposed to be a surprise. Sort of my late housewarming gift."

Katie couldn't prevent the nervous giggle that escaped her lips.

"Don't laugh, it's a playbook," he hurriedly informed her. "You write in it, see, to keep track of your flight patterns and players... X... O... yeah."

"Oh." Well, that was embarrassing. "Right. Well, thanks, Ol!" Katie tried to say lightly. But a familiar sinking feeling was quickly taking over. Served her right for assuming.

Oliver looked equally fretful. "I hope you use it," he added quickly. "It's charmed so that we can share notes."

"What do you mean?"

"I have one just like it. I was thinking we could exchange notes on games and stuff. Players, plays... It'll be our secret."

Just like that, Katie felt loads better. "Thanks, Ol!" she repeated more enthusiastically. "So where'd you get them?"

"Flourish and Blotts," he replied, a sheepish grin creeping its way onto his face. "I figured your owl wouldn't enjoy having to fly back and forth with my notes, so I got journals. I charmed them myself."

"But you're terrible at Charms!" Katie laughed. "Are you sure they work?"

"It took me a few tries, but I'm pretty sure they do. I wrote the dedication on my notebook and it showed up on yours. I meant to make it longer, but I was running late for practice. Sorry about that."

Katie smiled down at her plate. It was no wonder, then, that she hadn't recognized his handwriting. (Though "Xs & Os" was little text to work on.) "I don't believe you."

"Excuse me?"

"It's not going to work!"

"Is that a challenge, Bell?"

"Just my own prediction, Captain. Like I said, Charms isn't really your thing."

"I could say the same about you and Divination."

"I don't have to be good at Divination to know you're rotten at Charms."

"I'm plenty good at Charms."

"Oh, yeah? Then why haven't you charmed anyone else off their feet?"

"Because..." he stopped himself. _Because the one I want is oblivious to my feelings and I'm too much of a pygmy puff to tell her_. "Quidditch. No time for all that, Bell."

"Right," Katie half-smiled. Internally she was smacking Bludgers at her face. _Why. Why. Why._

"Season," he weakly added.

"I know, I know."

_No, you don't!_ He wanted to scream.

"So... do you wanna test them out?" Katie asked.

"Is that an invitation? Or are you just looking to get rid of me?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe what? You still have my Portkey, so I'm guessing it's the latter."

"It's _my_ Portkey, Captain."

"Yes, but it's my key to spying on Harpy activity. Since you don't write about it, or anything."

"Hence the playbook?"

"Hey," said Oliver. "I fully expect you to use it for Quidditch business. No messing around. Full reports, understand me? Particularly on the Bats. I have a score to settle with them."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Katie rolled her eyes.

They parted ways soon after, exchanging awkward hugs and sharing their morning commitments.

Oliver returned to his flat, heart a little heavier.

_That conversation was more discouraging than most_, he thought. He absentmindedly tossed something onto the nearest table - _What?_

"Huh." It was the magazine Alicia had brought with her, he realized. He hadn't even noticed he'd brought it home with him. He didn't normally care for these things, but since Alicia worked for Witch Weekly now...

It was bookmarked, he observed. He fingered the tab and opened the rag to the corresponding page. "Young Blood...?" he frowned. _Oh._

Oliver didn't know how long he stood there, looking at the photos. He'd have to thank Alicia for this later on, though he was positive she'd meant to tease him about it. He padded to the bedroom, carefully placing the magazine down on his side table. He caught a glimpse of his Charmed journal - the one identical to Katie's, picked it up and opened it.

His dedication had been tampered with! The "X" had been written over and apostrophes added.

It now read, "**K**'s and O's Super Secret Playbook. Thank you, Captain :)".

_Maybe tonight wasn't so bad after all_, he smiled, reaching for a quill.

_You're welcome, Kates_, he wrote. _Good night._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hee :") Things get more Quidditchy in the near future! Leave me a review if you liked this and/or wanna see anything in particular!**


	14. Dating Politics

**A/N: Hello! Happy Easter or April Fools' Day depending on your time zone! Of course if you're celebrating April 1st, it's also Fred and George's birthday! (RIP Fred though.)**

**Here's the latest - it's a bit long so bear with me! I can't for the life of me write short ones. Does that bother anybody? Too-long chapters? This will set the mood for the rest of the story so... here we go!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 - Dating Politics<strong>

.

Katie opened her journal one afternoon to find Oliver scribbling feverishly again. The words showed up on the page as he wrote them:

_._

_October 14, 1998_

_MAGPIES FRIENDLY_

_Poor defense! Call for flanking by Fairfax and Davies on the M play against Import. CANNOT HAVE A REPEAT OF THIS. EVER._ _ X_

_Look out for Import from Africa - I have never seen his method of feinting to catch and shoot Q. Took me by surprise. (-) What's his name again? Do research on this fellow!_

_6 goals past me in under 30 minutes, all from him. DANGEROUS!_ _You will pay for this by running six miles tomorrow morning. And suicides. 20 rounds._

_Alasdair Maddock acting weirder than usual. Double check rulebook if Quaffle-kicking is permissible. In any case he is rubbish at kicking Q into goals. (+)_

_Note:_ _Work on swoop saves tomorrow. 6am. Also on cross-goal saves. Locate Fairfax immediately. She WILL_ _do drills with you at the ass crack of dawn. No excuses._

_._

It seemed he was having a bad day. Katie tended to catch Oliver writing his notes mid-afternoon, typically after Puddlemere's friendly games. Today's game must not have gone so well, because he was beating himself up over it again. He was writing rather quickly, too, using acronyms and mysterious little symbols here and there. He continued to detail his observations on the page, most of which were self-berating. Katie watched on as he drew a crude diagram of a Quidditch pitch, and charmed the Xs and Os to move according to plays he had in mind.

.

_FINAL SCORE,_ he wrote angrily, _210-180, Montrose. X X X X_

_SAVES: 13/19._

_PENALTY SAVES: 3/3. Okay, you need only run three miles. Not six._

_PLAYING TIME: 78 minutes._

_._

What! He had only let six goals in - the same six goals he had recorded. He was taking the African player's performance against his goalkeeping too personally, it seemed. Katie felt it was time to intervene.

.

_**Hi**_, she scribbled on the margin. Oliver's mad scratching halted.

_Hello Kates_, he wrote more cautiously.

_**Tough day?**_

_You could say that._

_**You didn't do too bad.**_

_I did. You should watch out for this new guy they've got -_

_**Yeah, you really spelled it out here. But hey - just six goals past you.**_

_All from him!_

_**And your teammates scored 18 goals on Montrose. That's hardly shabby. **_She contemplated a moment before adding: _**:)**_

_But we lost because I let those goals in. We could have won if I'd saved even one._

_**May I point out the obvious? You're obsessing again. :) **_No! Must... control... smiley faces!

_It's my performance._

_**It's just a practice game.**_She could practically see Oliver pouting while waiting for his reply.

_It is, _he finally agreed. _How was today's game? The Falcons, was it?_

_**Do you have to ask?**_

_Okay, well done :-)_

It was no secret - the Falcons had been struggling. Last week, Oliver felt the need to recount in full detail how Puddlemere had trounced them. He was particularly proud that he'd been able to saved every single goal. Katie had interrupted his gloating then, only to have him challenge her to do better.

_**180-30**__, _she wrote. He'd have asked, anyway.

_How many minutes?_

_**Not even 20. We had to stay afterwards to scrimmage some more. Extra training in a bit.**_

_That was quick. Any goals from you?_

_**Thanks to Glinda. 1/1. Not much to report, I'm afraid...**_

_Did you try the play from the outside? I drew it on my notes on the Wasps. Been dreaming about it for ages. If I may say so, it looked rather inspired on paper._

_**Yes, thank you. I wasn't sure if I could pull it off, but Coach King seemed impressed. Annie thought I just wanted to show off when I suggested it.**_

_You were always a fast learner. And I thought it would suit your style of playing._

_**Oh? And what style would that be?**_

_You know. Like you want people to watch you._

_._

Katie blushed. She knew he was right - Coach King had told her the same. The observation surprised her; after all, her showy playing style didn't necessarily reflect her personality. All the same, part of her was gratified that people - well, Oliver - took notice. Or remembered.

.

_**Who's watching?**_

Oliver didn't reply for a few seconds.

_You'll see soon enough. People will love you._

.

Having run out of things to say, Katie began doodling Quidditch goals, and then enchanted the accompanying stick-figure Keeper to fall and dangle from his broom. Beside it she wrote, _**Oliver Wood**_.

_._

_Hey. This is for serious Quidditch homework, Bell!_

_***shrug***_

_Alright, you._

.

He sketched his own stick-player, added a ponytail, labeled it _Katie Bell_, and charmed it to fall off its broom and dangle right with the stick-Keeper. The two displeased drawings eyed one another, and tried in vain to clamber back onto their brooms.

_._

_**They need more practice.**_

_So it seems._

_**Speaking of, I've got conditioning in a few. Talk to you tomorrow, Captain! Try not to punish yourself, you did just fine!**_

_I'll be the judge of that. Take care :-)_

_._

Katie shut the journal, biting her lip. This had been a small ritual of theirs for some days now - he did most of the play-making, so it was like she had complete access to his manic Quidditch thoughts. Some of his ideas were genius, and others were just his kind of crazy. Katie knew a lot of his other ideas were less for him, and more for her to try out. Which she did, of course, unless he got out of hand with his physics-defying notions, or perhaps got overly engrossed in whatever plans he was making. And whenever that happened, she'd happily interrupt, then they'd share a little exchange. Those few minutes were probably her favorite part of any given day.

She stepped out of her home in a sports bra and shorts, stretching her legs a little. The house elves plucking weeds off her lawn smacked into one other and stared at her, their inquisitive eyes bulging at her.

"Miss Katie," one of them bowed. The other clutched her bag of weeds anxiously.

"Hello," Katie said cheerily, not expecting a reply. She sometimes wished she could make friends with the elves, but they were too shy or too sneaky. Shrugging, she took off running in the direction of the stadium.

Inside, her teammates were only starting to gather and warm up. Gwenog was already running around the pitch, as was Annie. Without skipping a beat, she joined them and ran until their lineup was complete. Wilda was naturally the last to arrive, and she did so in her usual fashion - decked out in a neon yellow sports bra and zebra-print sweats. Her trainers were an equally loud shade of purple.

"Tone it down!" Jones teased. "The 80s are long over."

Wilda stuck her tongue out, and playfully shoved the cackling captain.

"Alright, enough!" A whistle sounded, and Coach King motioned for the entire team to come inside.

Katie exhaled loudly. She felt great! She followed the staff inside, groaning only when Coach Caroline, the conditioning guru, called her over.

Okay, so she wasn't 100 percent great. She hadn't quite outgrown her tendency to overextend her arm while throwing, and she had hurt her rotator cuff muscle two friendly games previous. It had factored in costing them the game, and Coach King had put her on heavy conditioning to be in top shape for when the season opened.

She sat herself down as Coach Caroline stretched her shoulder and chest, wincing a little as she pulled. "You should be stretching this yourself several times a day," the coach chided her. "It's boring stuff but it's crucial to your game."

"I'll get on it, Coach. It feels alright when I'm playing -"

"Yes, but just you watch. As soon as you throw that Quaffle in poor form, you'll regret it."

Katie knew she was right. She allowed herself to be stretched, distracting herself by watching her teammates position themselves in the pre-set circuit. Gwenog had made straight for the bench press, and was grunting as one of the coaching staff spotted her. Gwen was unnaturally strong, and she made sure everyone knew. Perhaps it was a way of asserting herself - not that she needed to. Gwen was probably the best definition of the term "Alpha Female".

Bruna was elegantly doing push-ups next to a struggling Vanna, who grunted as she performed her planks. Wilda was swiftly doing pull-ups, an exercise Katie had yet to conquer beyond two or three repetitions. Glinda busied herself with weighted boxing, her preferred alternative to the regular dumbbell exercises. ("Faster!" she shrieked at no one in particular.) Annie stoically moved at the squat rack with a barbell across her shoulders. No-nonsense, as always.

The two minutes passed, and each player moved to the next exercise station. Katie giggled as an exhausted Vanna eyed the bench press, her face contorted with something between gratitude and dread.

"What are you laughing at, hmm?" Coach Caroline raised a brow. "Get in there."

Katie thanked her, and proceeded to do push-ups next to Bruna, who was silently doing her planks. Five circuits later, they were interrupted by Coach King, who'd reemerged from her office.

"Alright, ladies," she called, "Gather round. I've got the latest schedule from Lara."

She continued. "We've only played seven out of the twelve teams for the friendlies, but it seems the League is cutting time down. The first game is on the 31st of October, a commemorative match to open the League before the real season starts next year. And would you believe our luck? They've selected us to play."

"Ha!" Gwenog boasted. "And why shouldn't they? We're the most exciting team in the League. Don't you say, Rookie?" She brushed against Katie, who cringed a little at the sweat she left on her arm.

"Err - aye." Gwen shot her a look. She amended, "Yeah we are!"

"Uh, Coach?" asked Annie. "Who're we against?"

Coach King checked the memo. "It says... Ah, there it is. Puddlemere. We're playing the Boys in Blue."

"Yes!" Glinda squealed. Bruna bit her lip as a smirking Gwenog gave her a hard nudge. Wilda looked equally gleeful.

Katie's jaw dropped. She knew she'd have to play against Oliver but - "So soon?"

The team looked at her. "It appears so, Bell. Problem?" Coach King eyed her over her half moon spectacles.

"No, it's just..." Katie paused. "We haven't practiced against them yet. Does it count in the standings?"

"Yes, it does. Jones is right - they want us to play to open the regular season with a bang, even if we formally begin in '99. They're probably expecting a quick and dirty match - a good show to build hype and press. There's going to be a gala afterwards, which apparently we are all to attend."

"Dirty?" Katie swallowed.

Gwenog snarled, "We're going to crush those pretty boys." Her eyes had a mad glint to them. "Are you ready, rookie?

"Oh! Is it going to be a Halloween gala?" Glinda chirped. "I have the perfect costume!"

"I'd like to bring my husband," gushed Vanna, visibly cheerier. Even Annie looked excited.

"La! There we are," Wilda smirked at Gwen over the murmuring women.

"FOCUS!" Coach King snapped. They all fell silent. "No thoughts about this ball, understand me? Puddlemere is surely working their tight little arses off, and so must we! Holyhead is starting this thing on top!"

"Yes, Coach," they mumbled in reply.

"What was that, now?" she barked.

"YES COACH!" the workout room echoed heartily.

"Better," she said. "Now back to work! You should be on your last set of exercises. After this, stretching and ice baths!"

Gwen slung an arm over Wilda, claiming she'd need two ice baths after all the heat. Wilda proclaimed that Gwen needed two baths only because she stank something terrible - or something along those lines. Katie couldn't process much after that. She was thinking about the forthcoming match.

.

"S'matter, Katie?" Bruna toweled her face off, getting ready to start her last set of squats. Being the closest in height and weight, they'd naturally become circuit partners, and it was Katie's turn to spot her.

"Nothing, I just don't know how to feel about playing Puddlemere."

"Tell me about it," Bruna rolled her eyes, preparing to take the weight on. "I for one am not looking forward to it - save for kicking their asses. But hey, it's your first real game! Spot me please - _HUP!"_

Katie steadied the barbell. "Am I mistaken, though, or does everyone tease you about Sean Flanner?"

Bruna tried not to pull a face as she lowered into a squat. "Yeah. Him. Nothing to tease about, though. _One. Two._"

"Then what's the big deal?"

"Katie," Bruna grunted, "Later. _Five. Six._"

"Oops."

Katie took her turn at the squat rack when Bruna finished her set. As she took on the weight ("_Oof!_ This is heavier than last time!"), Bruna began her story.

She sighed, "Where do I even begin with Sean Flanner?"

"_One... _Uh, the beginning? _Two..."_

"Okay, mmm. I met him after my first game against Puddlemere a few years ago. I was nervous as heck - I was this rookie playing against one of the most popular teams in the league, you know?" she shook her head. "I told you before - I was so afraid to commit errors, so much so that couldn't play right. I missed the first five or so goals, and every other goal after that. And I knew who he was, actually. Sean Flanner, hotshot Chaser, really handsome... that didn't help. At a certain point I was already so embarrassed, and then Gwen really let me have it. She was screaming at me, literally in my ear, and then I screamed back at her! Right there on the pitch!"

"_Nine... Ten... _She left Mummy Vanns," Katie puffed, "with both Bludgers? _Twelve..._"

Bruna laughed. "Yeah, she did. Came right by me and threatened to do the Keeping herself if I didn't snap out of it. And then I yelled at her to get off my back... Can you believe it?"

Katie fought to finish her last rep strong - "_FIFTEEN! AAH!"_ - replaced the weight, and then panted, "What did she say?" They walked to the water cooler together.

"Nothing! She flew away, though I could have sworn she was _this_ close to hitting a Bludger my way. But I really straightened up after that. The game went on for ages but I didn't miss another Quaffle. We won, you know, but Puddlemere caught the Snitch. Their old Keeper retired soon after. Gwen and Joan Gafton, bless her, got so drunk that night."

"Wait, what does that have to do with Sean Flanner?" Katie took a swig of cool water.

"Hmm? Oh yeah. Well, after the game and the press conference, he caught me outside the locker room. His teammates had already left, and... well, he looked like he was waiting for someone."

"You?"

Bruna rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "He introduced himself, then he was all, 'You play brilliantly. And you're stunning. How have I never met you before?' Blah, blah, blah. I can't believe I fell for it. I was still shy because I pretty much had the worst start ever. But oh! He was so charming. He begged me to get a drink with him, and I accepted. Stupid me."

The two walked towards the mats and mirrors to stretch. "Fast forward, he was a perfect gentleman, and we'd gone on a few dates. Secretly, of course. Coach would have killed me."

This surprised Katie. "But they said relationships were okay! I mean, Annie's engaged..."

"Yeah, but not just _any_ relationships, Katie. Dating men from other teams, especially Puddlemere, is not okay, even if they say it is. They're one of our fiercest rivals, in case you've forgotten." Bruna bent over to stretch her hamstrings.

"...Oh." This was news. Katie always knew that Holyhead vs. Puddlemere was an exciting match-up, but she didn't think there was any real beef involved. She pretended to wobble as she stretched her left quad.

As if Bruna knew what she was really thinking, she said, "Oh, you can be friends, sure. I know you're buddies with that Keeper of theirs, and that's fine. Off the pitch we're all grown-ups, aren't we? Save for Gwen sometimes, but you know how she can be."

"Yeah," Katie said weakly. She was only thankful Bruna didn't know about how awfully chummy she wished she and Oliver would be. "Does Gwen hate them?"

"As individual people? No. But she _really_ wants to win whenever we play them. They're like her Number One Enemy. Probably because their male players are so popular. We're pretty much their female counterpart."

"Oh," Katie repeated. What was she going to say to that?

"Anyway, so one free weekend I was at Se- _Flanner_'s place, and we were... _you know_."

"...Er, hanging out?"

"Yeah," Bruna laughed. "_Hanging out. _And then his Floo went off, and a woman - his mum, I think, just began shrieking at him. She was all, '_SEAN FLANNER! YOU GET HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT! YOUR BEATRICE HAS BEEN WITH ME, CRYING AND WAITING FOR YOU ALL WEEKEND, AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ENTERTAINING THIS - THIS HARLOT?'_"

Katie's mouth dropped. She tried scanning her memories for that one very crucial fact, but as far as she'd known (thanks to Witch Weekly), he was unattached. "He's _married_? And he didn't tell you?"

"I know. I was so shocked. No one seems to know. The bachelor thing is all marketing, I suppose. Puddlemere has one intense PR unit."

"I've heard," Katie said, recalling Oliver's misadventures with a woman he'd named Priscilla the PR Pogrebin.

"Anyway he didn't even have to explain. He put out the Floo immediately, and then he was all, 'There's something I need to tell you, please stay,' but I wouldn't have a word of it. I got up, grabbed my stuff, and left."

"Wow. Go, you."

Bruna nodded nonchalantly. "And then things got worse when he started sending me letters, and gifts, and flowers, and even a Howler begging me to let him explain. I threw them all out. Naturally the girls got suspicious. By the time our next game against Puddlemere came along, they all knew he at least was trying to romance me."

"You don't talk to him?"

"No. I am no home-wrecker. Though I have to say, I play fantastically against Puddlemere now. Flanner hardly gets anything past me." The Keeper gave a small chuckle.

"Well. That explains a lot." Katie finished the last of her arm stretches. "He doesn't talk to you either?"

"I try to avoid him, but he still tries to corner me sometimes. The others tease me, but they don't really know what that's about. They think I secretly like him, or at least that I'm just playing _really_ hard to get."

"Why don't you tell them?"

"Well, I wasn't ready at the time. Then I just never got around to it. Now it just feels awkward to bring up. Plus it's highly inconvenient that I still find him _very_ attractive."

Katie laughed. "I won't tell a soul."

"You'd better not! Now let's get to that ice bath."

"Noooo!"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Wood. Geddup, mate."

"Errgh."

"It is I, Prince Charming. Would the fair maiden like a kiss?"

"Sod off, Davies."

"Oh, come off it. Don't be mopey over this morning's game."

"You are cutting into my precious nap time."

"Yes, yes. Nice sheets, by the way. Go, go Gryffindor!" Davies jostled the bed. "What've you've got there? A secret diary?"

"Graaah!" Oliver sat up grumpily. "What do you want? Actually, no. How did you even get in here?"

Davies ignored both questions, choosing instead to pet Oliver's head. "I take it you haven't gotten the memo."

"What memo?" Oliver dodged his hands.

"This one. Deverill sent it out not an hour ago." Davies tossed him a piece of parchment.

"Hello, Puddlemere," Oliver mumbled, squinting, "It is my pleasure to announce... Quidditch League's opening ball... Puddlemere will be playing THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES?" If he wasn't fully awake, then he was certainly discombobulated.

"Ah, there he is, ladies and gentlemen." Davies applauded, causing Oliver to remember himself.

"Er. Why're you telling me this?"

"Oh, nothing," Davies casually replied, "You just love Quidditch more than anybody I know."

"Bollocks."

"And I may have wanted to see your face when you found out we'd be playing against Bell."

Oliver shut his eyes and hoped he looked cool. "The Harpies are always an exciting match-up. Your first real game, too."

"Indeed, and the addition of a certain female friend might raise the stakes a little, no?"

"Maybe you should ask Flanner."

"Maybe _you_ should ask Ms. Priscilla over at PR. Or Coach Nolan." The Chaser snooped through the items on Oliver's bedside table, gleefully picking up their weeks-old issue of Witch Weekly.

"Nolan?"

"Yes, that's why I'm here. After he gave me his daily sermon he sent me over. He wants a word with you."

This confused Oliver greatly. "What about?"

"I think I've given you enough clues," Roger dangled the magazine in front of him. "Off with you, Casanova!"

Oliver got up and made to walk out of his flat. Then he swiftly spun around. Roger had quickly made himself comfortable: he was lying on the bed, thumbing lazily through the magazine.

"I'm a handsome bastard, aren't I?" Davies asked.

"Out."

"Alright, alright."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"I never want to do that again," Katie bit out. Her teeth were still chattering as they did after every ice bath. She couldn't seem to get used to them.

"I love ice baths," Glinda chirped, pushing Katie into what looked like a big, dark, wood oven. "In Finland, they always follow up with a sauna. Here we are!"

"Oh," Katie breathed as the hot room filled up with steam. Soon enough, however, she was dying to leave. "Glinda," she coughed. "I can't breathe!"

"Use a Bubble-Head Charm! But if you can't take it, don't force yourself, Rookie!"

Katie barged out of there quick as a Billywig. She could still hear Glinda's tinkling laughter as she exited the sauna. Shedding her towel, she got dressed and hurried home, feeling tired and a little mopey. Her mood was far different from earlier that day. Maybe she should run a _proper_ bath - a warm one with lots of bubbles.

She mused that when she signed on to play professional Quidditch, she hadn't imagined there would be quite so many Muggle techniques involved. Even the equipment they had in their gym was Muggle-made. The only magical bit was the Quidditch!

Not that there was anything wrong with Muggle techniques. Yoga, saunas, ice baths, the gym - they were effective, yes, but tiring and weird. She remembered that that Brevis Birch fellow seemed to have a lot of negative things to say on the matter... But all the same, Katie felt more secure with all the Muggle stuff than with the idea of using dark magic. It was just Quidditch, for Merlin's sake! She'd have to ask Oliver about their methods - _Oliver!_

Her pace slowed to a dawdle. They'd be playing Puddlemere at the end of the month. This was the debut Gwenog Jones had been pressuring her about. She'd been counting on practicing with Oliver before ever having to play against him, but it seemed there was little chance of that now. That sort of sucked, because... well, Oliver was her Captain. Her best friend. He'd always looked out for her, and vice versa. They'd always been on the same team, and for the first time, she felt like they'd be on opposite ends of the pitch.

Bruna's words popped into her head: Puddlemere was supposed to be one of their fiercest rivals. She supposed she knew as much. But she hadn't felt any of that, probably because they hadn't played against them yet. She sighed, pushing the thought to the back of her mind.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Ah, Wood. There ye are." Coach Nolan adjusted his frown as Oliver walked into his office.

"Coach. You asked to see me?" Oliver shook his hand in greeting.

"Aye. Siddown, son."

Oliver did as he asked, his face expressing growing concern. Coach Nolan reached into his desk and pulled out a neatly compiled stack of newspaper and magazine clippings.

"There're a few things I'd like you ta explain."

"What is it?"

Nolan coughed out a laugh. "I was hopin' you'd tell me."

Oliver leaned forward to inspect the materials. Three recent features from the gossip sections of the Prophet:

_It's a Chaperoned Date Number 2 for Oliver Wood and His Mystery Girl!_

_Wood's Mystery Girl Identified: It's Harpies Rookie, Katie Bell!_

_Oliver Wood and Katie Bell: Mere Teammates, or a Bona Fide Match? We've Got Witch Weekly's Scoop!_

He'd never seen those before, but he did recognize the clippings from the same Witch Weekly magazine that he had back in his flat. _Young Blood: Hogwarts' Rising Stars_.

Oliver groaned inwardly, leaning back in his seat.

"I suppose this is the same 'mystery woman' they wrote about before?" the coach asked gruffly, his stern gaze unwavering.

"Did you cut these out yourself?" The Keeper was incredulous.

"Don't be an idiot, PR gave 'em to me. Apart from the rag, there ain't no photographs. Wards didn't detect you bringin' anyone in, either, so I gave you the benefit o' the doubt. Now answer me."

Oliver sighed, expecting a repeat of the sermon he'd been given once before. "She's Katie Bell, not some mystery woman. We aren't seeing each other."

The Coach nodded his head and inspected their photos. "Pity. Not that it's any o' my business, but she might have been good for you."

_What?_ Oliver looked up, surprised. "You aren't angry?"

In fact, Nolan looked rather amused. "Nah. Ye've been playin' better than I've ever seen, lad. I had my doubts before, but you've been in peak condition fer weeks. Look atcha here," he pointed at the photo, "All smilin'."

Was he teasing? Oliver didn't understand. "Coach, I played dismally earlier -"

"Don' overthink it, Wood. We'll work on that hook save of yers, eh? Ye haven't let me down."

This was new. Nolan claimed he was hands-off, but he was usually very stringent when it came to his player's romantic liaisons. He often scolded the Beaters, Wilson and Borodin, for traipsing around London with whom he emphatically called "bacchanalian wildwomen". Oliver's last brush with the coach over his dating life (or complete lack thereof) hadn't gone over well either - but it was probably because he'd been playing so badly. Come to think of it, even the Beaters played terribly after a night on the town. Nolan just had the clippings to prove it was because of their womanizing. Thanks, presumably, to PR.

"Was... that all, Coach?"

"Hmm?" Nolan was still inspecting the photos of Oliver and Katie, much to Oliver's growing embarrassment. He tossed them back onto the table. "No. Did Davies show ya Deverill's memo?"

"Yes, Coach, I -"

"Regardless of yer personal goings-on, it's bound to be one helluva match. Ya know the Harpies are no joke. Your girl - she any good?"

Oliver swallowed. "She isn't my -"

"I said, is she any good?"

He gave a resigned sigh. "She's excellent."

"But I trust that ya won't be s'prised by anythin'?"

"On the contrary, she's full of surprises."

"Yeh? Well, we'll just have ta prevent that, won't we?"

This was fair - they always discussed Quidditch tactics anyway. "I'm sure they'd ask her the same about me and Davies," Oliver agreed, though he felt heavy about sharing his knowledge. This was new; he was usually excitable on the matter. He knew it was because the topic was Katie, someone whom he felt was very much part of his private life.

"Good lad. That's all from me - though I must warn ya, someone's been waitin' her turn to speak with ya."

Oliver's eyes widened. "Coach. No. Please."

Coach Nolan offered him an almost apologetic look as he called, "Priscilla?"

The door banged open as a rotund lady skipped inside. "Coach Nolan! And Oliver, love! Am I happy to see you." She offered the bewildered men some unreciprocated air kisses, and sat herself down.

"So you've seen the material?" she drawled, waggling her eyebrows at Oliver.

He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

She rested a hand on his thigh. "I didn't mind the articles at first - any publicity for you is good publicity, after all, even if it was probably _totally_ false. And _you_ voluntarily being out with a _woman_? Oh, my goodness. Merlin _knows_ that wouldn't happen even if the sun went out," she tittered. "So just _imagine_ my delight when I saw these photographs - oh! My heart just melted. You've been holding out on me, young man, and I think it's time we had a chat."

Oliver looked to Coach Nolan, who held his hands up in resignation. "Out of my control, Wood."

"We aren't dating," Oliver began with a sigh.

"But imagine if you were!" Priscilla gesticulated, her beady eyes bright. "You're from Puddlemere, and she's from Holyhead. We could frame it like a Romeo and Juliet love story - you know them? Family versus family, team versus team. Hidden - no - _forbidden_ love! The drama! The publicity!"

"I'm sorry, Priscilla, but I don't _want_ any drama -"

"There you go again," she tsked. "All I'm saying is, you two lovebirds look _very_ well together, indeed. I could arrange to have you followed by some paparazzi on your little dates, hmm? Appearances here and there, an article or two the next day... totally harmless!"

"Except for the fact that we. Aren't. Dating." Oliver's face was stern. Nolan only looked on interestedly.

"But you want to be, don't you? I saw those pictures. Everybody knows they are so unlike you, Mr. Wood. You must know that you are by far Puddlemere's biggest selling point to the media and to the audience, and it is your duty to the team to help keep Puddlemere in their minds and hearts. If they want to know your business - which they do - then so be it."

Gone were all her happy pretenses. Priscilla was on business mode - she wasn't going to back down. "Now tell me you don't want to get involved with this girl," she challenged him.

Oliver hesitated - that was his downfall.

"It is set!" Priscilla smirked triumphantly.

"No, it is NOT!" Oliver suddenly shouted, to the surprise of everyone in the room. "Listen here," he said, getting up. "I put up with a _lot_ of rubbish from you people. The ridiculous shoots, the appearances, even that stupid fake relationship you made me have with Amber. That was six months of my life, Priscilla, and Merlin knows why she still owls me! All I ever wanted to do was play Quidditch. But I do all that other rot. For the fans, of course. For the team, maybe. For whatever agenda you people have, fine. But just this once you're going to have to leave me and Katie alone. I mean it."

He stormed out, leaving a flabbergasted Priscilla and a very smug Coach Nolan in his wake.

"I will have my way!" Priscilla screamed at his retreating figure.

"Ya heard the lad," Nolan growled. "Just give him some damn privacy, woman."

Priscilla was beside herself. "Men!" she huffed, and stormed away herself.

Coach Nolan inspected the photos one last time with a chuckle. "What do ya know?" he mused. "It seems our Wood _can_ be mad for somethin' besides Quidditch."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Oliver impatiently waited for the lift to take him up to his flat. As the doors opened at the 14th floor, he marched in and went straight for his bedroom. He considered flying his Firebolt 2 out to cool off, but ultimately decided against it. Odd as it was to even think it, he'd had enough of Quidditch - and being seen - for the day. Plus the fall afternoon was getting chilly. Instead he conjured himself a glass of cold water, downed it, and then plopped back down on his bed.

He faced the ceiling, which had a diagram of a Quidditch pitch painted on it. He waved his wand and made his little Xs and Os to move around and distract him. Okay, so there wasn't such a thing as too much Quidditch - just too much PR. And Priscilla. Still aggravated, he tossed his wand aside and rolled over.

His face missed the pillow and hit something harder - "Ow!"

It was his and Katie's journal. His frown softened as he opened it to their last correspondence, and his breath caught when he saw she'd written something new on it:

.

_**Hey Ol. I wonder if you've heard the news? I'm sending Gwenog (the owl) over with something for you. Maybe we'll have use for it soon :) -K**_

.

He didn't have to ponder for long because Gwenog (the owl) did arrive soon after, with a pouch attached to her talon. He gave her a snack and took it, thinking little as to what could be inside. He opened it and dropped its contents on his palm: a Quaffle charm he'd had in his possession not long ago. He barely registered why it looked so familiar when he felt a pull round his navel.

He'd Portkeyed himself away. Oh.

.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed that! I've never written note-passing types of dialogue but I certainly had fun :) The next two chapters FINALLY see the league come to a start so if you have comments, suggestions, feedback... leave me a review, please? I do enjoy a good conversation via FFNet inbox! Next update soonish - I'm quite inspired!**


	15. Sleepy Situations

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so happy that so many of you loved the last chapter :) In particular I loved the reviews of brilliantincandescence, and Lena'sWonderland. I enjoyed writing it, too! I think the reason I love writing the exercise bits is because I feel motivated to work out when I do. I hope it works for some of you, as well. Of course, I also love writing the fluffy bits. And subplots.**

**The Sean-Bruna thing had been cooking in my head for a while... I like when OCs have some character of their own, and Bruna's my girl. I gotta look out for her, too, right?**

**And as for Oliver vs. Priscilla the PR Pogrebin (did anyone Google Pogrebins? Heheh), I always knew Oliver had balls. He's just far too nice (and concerned about other things) to fight people all the time. Teamwork is about peace and unity! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15 - Sleepy Situations<strong>

The bath was helping. Katie's set-up was conducive to relaxing as it was to thinking: the she charmed her lavender bath to remain clean and warm, and made her bubbles float out of the tub and around the room. She'd need a good, long bath session because opening the season in two weeks had come as a bit of a shock to her. She did not expect to play so soon - she thought she had until January to fully integrate herself into the team. Immersed chin-deep in the water, Katie pondered if they were ready - if she was ready.

She'd made friends enough since she'd joined the team in late July, and Bruna and Wilda were easily the closest to her. She knew they were comfortable playing with her, and she returned the sentiment. They even spent time together outside of training, which was good. Annie was a bit distant, but Katie knew she was just naturally reserved. They'd shared laughs on the pitch, but Annie tended to leave soon after practice was over. She had a wedding to plan, after all. Vanna, while affectionate, also spent little time with the girls apart from training. She had two children: happy, chubby young boys whom she sometimes brought with her to watch them scrimmage. They were her biggest fans, but they also took up much of her time. As for Glinda, Katie never knew where she was outside of training, but Wilda informed her that their Seeker was probably seeing someone new. That, or Glinda just preferred to hang out in the spa with Coach King, of whom she was the favorite. And Gwenog Jones... well, Katie still didn't know where she stood with the team captain. Their relationship was still a bit awkward. They usually spoke in a group, when Gwen would try to goad Katie or vice versa. At the moment, Katie decided not to mind it.

When she pondered the games the Harpies had played against the conjured phantoms and the other Quidditch teams, she felt they did well overall. Out of the seven friendly matches, they'd won five. Yes, it was because Glinda made quick work of the Snitch, but in terms of scoring, they'd managed to keep things even if not better than the teams they played. She'd just have to keep focused and play smart. _Soul on the Goal_, as Oliver used to say. They'd be fine. She'd be fine, she assured herself.

She suddenly felt very proud that she'd been able to keep up. A part of her was - apart from Quidditch and the appointment here and there, she'd had very little time for herself. The last time she'd seen any of her friends was that time with Alicia. She hadn't checked in on Ange and George, or on her parents... Oliver was the only person she'd been in constant contact with.

_For Quidditch purposes, of course_, she rationalized.

But forgetting the others wasn't very cool. She resolved to owl them the next day, otherwise Gwenog the owl would be upset with her. After all, she'd just sent her across the island.

Katie lay in the warm water in silence, momentarily out of things to think about. She leaned back and allowed the floating bubbles to hypnotize her. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breaths slowed. Just as she thought she could fall asleep in the bath, she heard a muffled cry, an inexplicable, warped noise, and loud thud from somewhere inside her house.

Her eyes flew open in alarm. It couldn't have been her owl - Gwenog would be back in the wee hours of the morning, after she hunted. Katie listened warily for more noise, but none came. Trying not to slosh about, she stepped out of her bath, quickly pulled on a robe, and grabbed her wand. Casting Muffling Charms on her feet and on the door, she carefully pried it open and stuck her head out.

There was no one in her room, much to her relief. Clutching her robe tighter, she Muffled her bedroom door, opened it, and stuck her wand into her darkened living room.

She had to control her urge to gasp when she noticed her front door was open, and that there was a big lumpy figure lying motionless on her carpet. The lump was... breathing? Realizing that it was a person, she muttered the incantation to turn the lights on, and immediately pointed her wand back at the intruder.

"Oliver!" This time she could not control the cry that escaped her lips when she saw him lying unconscious, and dressed entirely in... drag? Disbelief and shock glued her to the spot until she caught herself. She ran over to his prone form and tried to flip him over, but realized that the shiny bangles he was wearing served to shackle him to his outfit. The tight, sequined dress he donned was very heavily suctioned to the floor, and the high heels his feet were shoved into were equally tight. They all seemed to be connected by a sheer gray unitard, which clung to his form quite rigidly. And the wig... Katie had no idea what any of that was about. Combined with his muscles, his body hair, and five-o'-clock shadow, it looked especially atrocious, and just plain _wrong_. (Not that proper drag queens didn't look fab, Katie amended. Miss Raul on the weekends was exhibit A.)

But why? Had Oliver come dressed like this? Why did he come in the first place? Or who had sent him here? Was he in trouble? Was _she_ in trouble? What was happening!

"Oliver? Wake up!"

He did not respond. She tried and failed to shake him awake.

After checking his pulse and determining that he was just unconscious, she glanced up at her open door. She grabbed her wand and checked outside - nobody was around. As she walked back in, she felt herself step on something small.

She picked it up, realizing it was the Quaffle charm from her bracelet. It was the Portkey she sent to Oliver as soon as she'd gotten home. It had no effect - after all, she was already at the destination. Frowning, she went back inside and closed the door. She looked up and noticed that the gray security cube George had given her was missing. "Oh," she realized, looking down at Oliver. His unitard matched the cube's color. "So that's what it does."

Her poor Captain had been subject to yet another Weasley prank, and it did not look funny. At least, not to her. She made several attempts to change his clothing and wake him up, but to no avail. She leaned in close to try to pull his wig off - it didn't work either, but she did spot a large clip-on earring Oliver was wearing. Shaped like a disc, it had something engraved on it - "TAKE THIS OFF TO CALL GEORGE WEASLEY."

She did as it said and pulled the thing off, unsure of what to expect. A Floo? Another magical means of two-way communication? Less than a minute later, she was relieved when the earring warmed slightly and changed its text: "DON'T PANIC, KATIE. WAIT FOR ME. I'M COMING. - GEORGE".

It worked like her old DA galleon - nifty magic, that. Okay then. George was coming over. The relief Katie felt was suddenly overcome by a bout of self-awareness. She was still in her robe! She ran back into her room to quickly change, managing to pull on her dad's old button-down in time.

A whoosh sounded.

"Katie! Are you alright? Where is the intruder!" A voice came from outside.

"George!" Katie cried, flinging her front door open. "What diabolical thing have you invented!"

George stood there looking comically serious in his pyjamas. Without a proper greeting, he handed Katie her Bludger charm - the same Portkey he'd used to come to her housewarming party.

"Excuse me, Katie," was all he said.

He moved past her to inspect his handiwork, only to begin howling with laughter a second later.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're alright," he finally said mirthfully, turning around to embrace Katie fiercely. "I was afraid someone had come to abduct you. No wonder you were so calm."

"Who would abduct me this early in the evening?"

"Wood, apparently. Did he come to surprise you? The cube wouldn't have worked if you'd known he was coming." After a beat, he cackled, "Inside, that is."

"I didn't, but - _hey._ This isn't the time dirty jokes." Katie slapped his arm. Some things never changed.

George tried to look affronted. "I'll have you know that my humor is saintly."

"As evidenced by Ol dressed in drag?" Katie crossed her arms. She wasn't sure if she was more amused or annoyed for Oliver.

George chuckled, "Indeed. It works better than I thought it would. This is the first time anyone's gotten trapped by any of my little cubes, you know. Ange would've loved to see this."

"How is Ange?" Katie perked up. George stiffened, and merely shrugged.

"Okay, how'd you know the thing would work?" Katie changed topics, sensing his reluctance. She resisted the strong urge to bring up Alicia.

"Ghoul in the attic," George shrugged again. "Tested on him. Tried it on gnomes, too, but it doesn't seem to detect tiny creatures. Mum was so disappointed."

"Mm."

"Now, whether or not it's reversible on wizards, I don't yet know..."

Katie shoved him lightly and asked, "Please undo it. I've tried everything I know."

"Didn't you take N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration?" he raised a mocking brow.

"Yes, but apparently you've done something I _didn't_ learn at Hogwarts."

"I dunno. I think it suits ol' Wood."

"George!"

"Okay, okay. No need to piss on my happiness."

He leaned over and yanked on a tiny gray cube on the back of Oliver's dress. Immediately, the fabric and baubles re-entered the cube as if they were being pulled and absorbed. Oliver was _un_dressed, and the security cube was again in one piece.

Katie gasped. There he lay like a sleeping man-cherub. Bear. Handsome-manly-Adonis-whose-torso-Katie-suddenly-w anted-to-rub. Wait!

"I know, I know," George grinned at her shocked expression. "I'm brilliant."

"Er. Oliver is naked."

"Hmm? That's not entirely true." George took the cube and carefully replaced it above Katie's doorway. "Silly girl."

The Keeper, still out cold, was dressed in nothing but his boxer shorts. His broad chest (and manly sprinkling of chest hair) rose and fell with his deep slumbering breaths. Katie fought hard to control her blush, her eyes darting to anything that wasn't Oliver's muscled form. Even while he was completely relaxed, he looked so very... firm. Ugh, was it getting hot in there? She let out a soft whimper.

George circled Oliver and grinned at Katie. "Wow. Wood is _built_, wouldn't you say?"

Katie managed to make an exasperated noise. She wiped some sweat off her neck. No, it was bath water from her hair, right?

"What? It's the truth. Would you just look at that bum!" George taunted. "It's not much compared to mine, of course... Are you seeing this, Katie Bell?"

"George." She repeated for the nth time. To her chagrin, she felt her face getting hotter. She avoided taking the bait. "Is he alright? Wake him up!"

"Well, well, Miss Katie," George massaged her shoulders. "No need to fret! The wig's interior lining is coated heavily in topical sleeping rub, see. It's an Indian variant to our potions and its effects are almost instant. It's good you didn't get any on you."

"And him?"

"I didn't have the antidote ready."

"When will he wake up?"

"Oh, maybe ten hours? I gave some leeway for you to call Aurors, if need be. Or me. It could have been anyone, you know." George's face betrayed a little anxiety, his gaze drifting a bit father off for a moment. Katie understood, but...

"That's..." Katie glanced at her clock, "Six in the morning!"

"Plenty of time for him to rest."

"Could you at least give him some clothes?"

"Do it yourself!"

Katie hesitated before admitting, "To be honest, I've sort of been living like a Muggle these past few months. I can't remember how to dress him."

"Well, tough. Neither do I!" George gave her a naughty grin.

"Ugh! You're impossible!" Katie gave up. Concentrating hard, she managed to conjure a blanket, a shirt, a pair of shorts, and shoes. Trying hard not to ogle, she levitated Oliver onto her couch and then covered him with the blanket. She positioned the clothes on the armrest beside head, hoping that he'd see them and dress himself when he woke up. "There."

"Heeeey!" George fake-whined.

But Katie heard none of it. She breathed a sigh of relief and spun around. "Care to join me for dinner?"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"This is great, Kates," George declared, his mouth stuffed with the roast chicken breast the Harpies' house elves had delivered to them.

"And it's good for you!" she laughed, taking a spoonful of her asparagus soup. As she'd discovered early on, the infamous Harpies Diet turned out to be delightful.

"I thought they only fed you people brussels sprouts doused in vinegar."

"Oh, that's for breakfast," she joked.

George chuckled. "Whatever it is, you're looking good, Kates. Better than ever. Flex it now!"

He flexed his bicep, perhaps to compare with her. Katie gamely followed suit.

"Yours is bigger than mine!" he gasped.

"Is not!"

It wasn't. But her arms and shoulders _were_ very trim, with cuts that weren't at all big like Gwenog's, but slender and nicely proportionate to her frame. Her entire body felt and looked stronger: she'd gained herself a strong core and a pretty neat set of abs, and even her legs got toned thanks to all the running and the yoga. And the Quidditch, of course.

"You've lost weight, too," George noted. "Not in a bad way."

"Nah," Katie waved an arm. "I'm actually heavier! All my fat's turned into muscle over the last couple of months. It's pretty cool. And here I thought Oliver was hardcore."

As if on cue, their former captain gave a soft snore from the couch and turned over. Katie's lips twitched in a small smile.

"How's the Quidditch?"

"I can keep up," she said modestly, "Though I get all these bruises and scrapes almost every day."

"Wicked. Show me!"

"The Mediwitches can heal the small ones almost immediately after practice," she said regretfully, knowing they would have delighted him. "The only thing that comes back is this pesky rotator cuff injury. But you can bring the gang over to my first game and I can show you my bruises then!"

"When will that be?"

Katie took a breath, "In a couple of weeks. George, we're opening the season. Against Puddlemere!"

"Cor," he breathed, looking at Oliver. "So soon!"

"I'll try to get you tickets, for sure they'll give me some!"

"Yes!" George exclaimed. But he got serious again. "D'you think you're ready?"

Katie nodded solemnly. "I've had a taste of how it's done. The friendly games weren't too violent, I mean, no one wanted any injuries. But I feel like when the real thing comes along, I'll be able to keep up. Yoga, you know. It's the shit."

"Really." George smirked.

"No. I prefer running. But I'm much bendier now."

"That might delight Oliver."

Katie sent him a withering look.

"Played against the ol' Captain here yet?"

"Nope!" Katie tried to look nonchalant. "But I'm sure it'll be exciting."

"Well, my bet's on you," George toasted his water to her. "I bet Wood can't do yoga. He's stiff as a board... get it?" he cackled.

"I'd give it a two out of ten." She clinked their glasses. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How's the shop?"

"Doing pretty well," he replied. "I actually got Ron to help out. Once he got over resting on his laurels, that is. Bloody git he was about it, too."

Katie laughed. "Well, he did help save the Wizarding World."

"The key word being 'helped', which we all did." George leaned in, "But between you and me, Kates, the danger's not yet over."

Katie tilted her head to the side. Since she'd been cursed, she had less to do with the War than her other friends. While this was sometimes a point of regret, she was happy she'd at least fought in the Final Battle. But George - he'd been there the entire time. No wonder he was more serious, more tired than she'd ever seen him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well," George said thoughtfully, "Voldemort's dead, but a lot of his followers are still at large. It's been only five months, you know."

"I know." Katie then remembered Fred, and got a little sad.

"Anyway," George said, "I've been supplying the Aurors with some under-the-counter spying tools and traps. Kind of like the cube."

"Is that what you're working on?"

"Yeah, they were pretty hesitant at first but now they totally dig the merch. It's like a whole second business!"

"That's awesome!"

"Yeah, as long as I'm helping. I met with some of them just earlier, and Kates," he said, suddenly serious again, "Be careful."

She frowned. "Why?"

"I didn't know you'd be playing at the opening, but I was chatting with one of Kingsley's men, and he said security will be very tight."

"Will Death Eaters be there?" she asked, alarmed.

"No, no, no," George said. "Well, let's hope not. I don't know the details, and I don't know what your management tells you. But there are some deep Death Eater ties in pro Quidditch, so they're taking precautions. Remember the World Cup?"

Katie nodded.

"They don't want a repeat of that," he said.

"By ties... do you mean teams? Management? Players?"

"Maybe all of the above," George shrugged. "I head about Joan Gafton. Then there's business with a bunch of other teams, Birch, I heard... It's pretty messy. Has your management told you anything?"

"No," Katie said, dazed. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Lara Svityensky in a while. Not even Clips had made an appearance. It was alway Coach King sending them off to their appointments, be it at the gym, the spa ("Cultivating marketability!" Lara called it), or otherwise. "Should I ask?"

"Maybe not yet. I'll find out what I can and let you know."

"Thanks."

The pair sat in silence awhile. Finally, George got up and cheerily said, "Well, I'd best be off! Goodbye, love, I guess I'll see you at your game!"

Katie got up to give him a hug. "You'd better be there!"

A minute of laughs and goodbyes later, George was gone.

Katie spun around and gasped she saw Oliver asleep on the couch. "Oh yeah," she chided herself. "Silly me."

She approached and told herself she was adjusting his blanket. She lifted it slightly to pull it over his very toned chest. Then she pursed her lips.

As an afterthought, Katie swept some of his disheveled hair away from his face, lightly caressed his lightly freckled cheek with her pinky. She loved his freckles. "Gah!"

Okay, this was getting creepy. She ran back to her room, turned out the lights, and ordered herself to stay in bed. Forever.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Oliver awoke the next morning to the eerie sensation he was being watched. His back was also a bit painful. Had it been yesterday's play? He focused his vision to inspect his ceiling. A fan languidly spun above him - _where was his playboard?_

He sat up. _Oh. _He wasn't home. Fully alert, he suspiciously inspected his surroundings. Had he been abducted? Where was his wand? He was without it, nor was it nearby.

He appeared to be in a bungalow, with mild jade walls and white wood furnishings. His muscles relaxed. It was a nice place. He wasn't tied up, nor was he imprisoned, so it seemed safe... but how did he get there? _That's right_ - a Portkey! He was probably at Holyhead! At Katie's? But how...?

The Keeper put the dots together. He vaguely remembered touching the Portkey by accident, and then landing arse-first on a porch that seemed to match the house he was in. So perhaps nobody had moved him. He had tried knocking on the front door, but no one answered. So he'd entered. Something rubbery bounced on his head, and then... black.

Oliver frowned. _What happened?_

"Hello?" he called. No reply. "Kates?" Nothing.

He got up and stretched, but the blanket fell off his body and he realized he was naked.

"Oye!" he said aloud, embarrassed although nobody seemed to be around. He gathered the blanket at his feet and draped it on, feeling silly. A nearby mirror confirmed he looked like an oversized... house elf?

Oliver thought saw something in the corner of the mirror. He turned around and confirmed his suspicions: a little house elf was boldly staring at him, breakfast tray in hand.

"Good morning," he said, bending down.

"Oliver Wood is awake," the creature said in wonderment.

This was most unusual behavior. Being from a pureblood family, Oliver had grown up with house elves. But perhaps unlike some Slytherins and blood supremacists he knew, he happened to be rather fond of the little things. Even so, he was more used to them being bashful and submissive.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Bootsy knows who Oliver Wood is," she breathed, indirectly answering him. "Oliver Wood is the second bestest Keeper in the League. After Miss Bruna. Miss Bruna is the bestest. But Bootsy is a big fan of Oliver Wood. I is been watching Oliver Wood all morning. He is a very handsome wizard."

Well. Oliver Wood didn't know what to make of that. This elf clearly had her loyalties, though her manner of speaking was certainly different compared to the elves that served masters and families. She spoke more casually, like a Hogwarts elf. But one thing was clear: if by Bruna, this elf meant Geyser, then he was in Holyhead. All the same he asked, "Bootsy, would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?" It didn't hurt to make sure.

She puzzled over why he would ask such a question before replying, "This is Miss Katie's cottage, of course."

Slight giddiness coursed through Oliver's palms. Not to mention relief. "Where is she?"

"She is asleeping. Miss Katie loves to sleep."

Oliver chuckled. That she did.

"Is Oliver Wood Miss Katie's guest?" the elf asked more brazenly.

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"Miss Wilda has guestses over sometimes. They are very loud... It makes Miss Gwenog very upset."

"I, er," Oliver frowned. "I don't think Katie invited me."

"But Oliver Wood slepts here all night!"

"All night! What time is it?"

Bootsy's ears wilted. She looked away from his face and over to a clock hanging in the alcove between two doors. "Bootsy does know how to read the times," she said pitifully. She wrung her dishcloth with worry. Oliver noted that it had a goal hoop embroidered on it.

"It's alright. It's..." he glanced at the clock, "6:15, see?" _Damn, he'd missed his window for self-punishment._

"Bootsy is sorry."

"No need to be."

The elf seemed to perk up again. "Bootsy will be honored to makes Oliver Wood breaksfast!" she said, "So you can eats with Miss Katie! As her guest!"

"That won't be necessary, I -"

With a pop, the elf was gone, and Oliver was alone. Or was he? By no means was he a snoop, but he was wandless. He needed to find his clothes, and a way home before practice at ten.

He inspected the little hallway where the clock lay and found himself between two doors. The left one, he found, was a bathroom, and the right was a bedroom. He thought it was empty and made to exit until he saw a head move beneath the fluffy duvet. Of course, it was Katie. Poor fellow didn't know what hit him - he stopped and stared.

The early morning sun's rays peeked through Katie's wood-and-glass doors and chiffon curtains, giving Oliver quite the view of her back porch and the lake. But the real view, he thought, was asleep on the bed. Her hair caught the sunlight just right. It framed her face like a blondish-brown halo. Her sleeping face was as lovely as he recalled, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, perhaps from a dream. He grinned as she made to wipe a thin line of drool off her chin.

Katie seemed more tan than when he'd last seen her, too. He debated with himself whether he should wake her when he heard a chipper voice call her name.

"Katie! Are you up? Time for a run!"

His head darted to Katie's porch door, where a figure was peering in. None of his Quidditch reflexes could have possibly helped him when Bruna Geyser walked right in. And screamed.

"EEEEK!" She brought her hands up beside her head and shook them in surprise and terror.

"AAAAH!" Oliver yelled right back, frozen to the spot.

Katie groaned from her bed, but turned right over. She gave her bum a scratch.

"Geyser, it's me!" Oliver whisper-yelled, holding his hands up in surrender. He suddenly became very aware of his attire - or lack thereof - and clutched the blanket closer.

"Wood? Oh! OH. I thought I heard some noise last night, a few thuds, but I - Morgana, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking! I didn't know -"

Oliver caught up to what she was implying and scrambled to correct her. "N-no!" he waved his hand at her, "It's not like that -"

"Did you stay the night, then? Because that's completely..." she looked Oliver up and down, and then glanced at Katie's button-up shirt and messy bed. "Okay."

"I didn't plan this. It was all really sudden. I got knocked out really fast," Oliver tried to explain, adjusting his blanket a little. This was getting uncomfortable very quickly.

"Whoa. Easy now. Too much information!"

"No, what I mean to say is, I don't know what happened last night. Katie's charm whisked me away and then I came -"

"Laaa!" Bruna put her hands to her ears. "I know Katie's very charming but I'm sure I don't wanna hear this!"

"- don't understand, I was Portkeyed here and I can't remember what happened!" His ears were a deep shade of pink.

They hadn't noticed, but their simultaneous yelling had caused the slumbering Katie to sit up in her bed. She gave a yawn and blinked once. She saw Bruna in her bedroom. Bruna. Why was Bruna there again?

"Shite!" she yelled aloud. "I'm sorry Bru, I totally knew we were going for a run. I'll change, give me a minute!"

"No, Katie, I completely understand. I'll just be... going ahead?"

"No, wait!"

With unfocused eyes Katie stumbled to her dresser and pulled out a sports bra and shorts. Slamming it shut, she made her way to her door.

And stopped in her tracks.

There, looking terribly pink and out of place, was Oliver.

"Oliver!" she said, stunned. Had he been there the entire time?

"Kates," he said sheepishly.

"I'll... just be going now," said Bruna, turning on her heel and running off. "Don't mind me, carry on!"

Katie blushed. She'd been left alone with the same half-naked Oliver. Only now he was awake. And dressed like Cupid. Where were his clothes?

He began, "Kates, what happened to me last -"

"Where are your clothes?"

"I was hoping you knew."

"Well the ones you came in are probably gone - eaten by George's security cube. I transfigured you some new ones, though." She looked at his feet. It would not do to stare at his abs - she'd been caught looking before. "They're by the couch."

"Oh," Oliver said, stunned. "Thank you."

Katie watched his feet turn around and walk out of her bedroom.

"Found them!" he called.

"That's great," she replied weakly. She had to sit down. Oh, boy. She'd have some explaining to do.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N: I said I'd update soonish, and I think this is soonish given my track record, so. Ta-da! I'm sorry to cut it off here. I meant for the whole thing to be just one chapter but I got carried away. So the next chapter will be a continuation, and then I see there being one more chapter before the BIG GAME!**

**What do you think? Leave me a review! :)**


	16. Two Weeks

**A/N: Waa! The big game is in the chapter after this. Had to write it first so I'd know what to write in this one! (For some reason writing big chapters is more important to me than writing them in chronological order.) Hope you like it in spite of the delay. Please review, lovely readers! While there's still time to tweak Chapter 17! :***

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16 - Two Weeks<strong>

"Do the clothes fit, Captain?" Katie asked nervously. She half-lay on her bed, still mortified. How could she have forgotten about Bruna? And Oliver! Merlin!

"Yeah, yeah they do," Oliver called over the rustle of his new clothing. A short while later, he walked back to her doorway and knocked. "May I come in?"

Katie forced a small laugh, tilting her head to look at him. "As if you even had to ask."

"Well, I could do without shocking more women."

"With what, your abs? I doubt Bruna will be the last," Katie replied before she could stop herself. "Blue really is your color," she hastily followed up, referring to the T-shirt she'd produced. It hung just right on his body.

Before Oliver could respond, a tiny voice sounded, startling Katie. "Breaksfast is ready for Oliver Wood!"

"What was that!" Katie's eyes widened in alarm. More surprises were the last thing she needed.

Oliver gave her a funny look and replied, "Bootsy, of course."

Katie returned his look with a confused stare.

"Bootsy?" Oliver repeated. "Your house elf? Strange one, about this high?" he held his hand two feet off the floor.

"You've made friends. With one of the house elves." Her tone was incredulous.

"Is... anything wrong with that?"

"They never seem to want to talk to me."

"Funny, because this one seems to like talking." He offered Katie his hands. She gratefully took them, and Oliver hauled her out of bed and into a natural embrace with a dramatic, "_Phwoooargh!_ You're getting heavy, Kates!"

"You're just getting soft, Captain!" she joked into his shirt.

He ignored her taunt and instead walked out to the breakfast nook, where Bootsy was cheerfully humming while arranging the table for two.

"Bootsy," he proclaimed formally to the elf, "Have you met Miss Katie?"

The elf turned around and her jaw dropped, eyes growing wide as saucers.

"Hello," Katie said. "Nice to meet you, finally."

Bootsy stared down at her bony feet. "We is not supposed to talk to players," she mumbled. "No, no. We is stupid distractions, Miss Joanie said. She detesteded house elves. Miss Joanie did not even lived on the Compound. But Miss Joanie was going to put Bootsy in the fire."

"Joanie... Joan Gafton?" It seemed the late Chaser had a much less savory side than her public persona, or so Katie kept hearing.

The creature nodded. "When Bootsy broked her shiny trophy one year. It is Bootsy's faults. Bootsy likes Keepers. And hoop polish. They is Bootsy's favorites." As an afterthought, she added, "Miss Katie is very good, too."

Oliver's frown had deepened intensely by this point. "Everyone can like Quidditch," he said emphatically.

Bootsy looked up. "Oliver Wood has clotheses," she said distractedly. Then she turned to Katie. "Will Miss Katie put me in the fire?"

And Katie replied, "Nobody's going to fire you, Bootsy. We can be friends."

The elf's face brightened immensely, and she then boldly came up to Katie, gesturing her to come closer. Katie bent down towards the strange elf, who then whispered, "Is Oliver Wood Miss Katie's guest?"

"Yes, he is," Katie whispered back conspiratorially. She raised her brows at Oliver, who had already been acquainted with Bootsy's peculiarities. "Sneaky one, too."

"Sneaky like how Miss Wilda has guestses in the nights?"

"Er...?"

"Can Bootsy has Oliver Woodses' autograph? Oliver Wood is second bestest Keeper in the League. After Miss Bruna. Miss Bruna is the bestest."

Katie laughed, "Why don't you ask him?"

Oliver was only too happy to oblige, and the happy elf left the bungalow two friends and an autograph richer, plus the top secret task of obtaining a Portkey back to Puddlemere HQ for Oliver.

"Odd one, that Bootsy," Oliver commented over breakfast. Today they had egg white omelette with fat-free sage bangers and orange juice, with plenty of fruit on the side.

"She reminds me of... Dobby? The one Harry liked so much?"

"That's the one."

"I think we'll be friends. All my friends are odd anyways," Katie took a sip of her drink.

"And George by far is the oddest. Tell me again how his contraption got me?" Oliver recounted how he'd touched her Portkey by accident, leaving the story to Katie to finish. She did so in exaggerated fashion, and told her version of drag, nifty earrings, and, of course, George.

"I was so scared something had happened to you," Katie laughed, finishing her explanation, "Or that you'd come dressed like that. Imagine!"

Oliver huffed. "But that was a nap for the books. No dreams, no grogginess after, either. We should ask George for some."

"For when we're on the road," Katie agreed. Then she sighed. "Bruna's gonna have my head."

"Geyser?"

"Yeah. I was supposed to run with her today. She just told me about her and Sean Flanner, so I don't know how I'm gonna explain this," she gesticulated between them vaguely, "To her."

Oliver imitated her weird air stirring gesture. "This?"

"Yeah," Katie grimaced. "This. Er, like, why my half-naked... friend, who is incidentally her ex's teammate, was wandering about my room in the early morning. Just the average situation, really."

He only nodded, and took a thoughtful bite of his omelette. "Mmm, Flanner _was_ something lovesick when she left him. It takes a different kind of woman to understand his... situation."

"Bruna's a good girl," Katie defended. Secretly she was glad for the topic change.

"I'm not saying she isn't!"

"It was probably for the best, anyway," Katie sighed.

"What was?"

She shrugged, "You know, that whole... inter-team dating business... thing can get kind of messy. Our Management apparently thinks so... And you had a lot to say on the matter, if I can recall..." she trailed off, poking her sausage.

"It's not for everyone," Oliver agreed, "But..."

Katie looked up at him.

"Er," he fumbled, "What... well, what I mean to say is..."

_Yes? Yes?_

"I've been thinking for some time now that maybe... it wouldn't be so bad. If something's cooked long enough, it should be... ready to eat, yeah?" He trained his eyes on something else other than her face.

She looked down at her food, unsure of what emotions her face betrayed.

"I mean," Oliver started. "Do you feel like," he stirred the air again, before rushing, "Maybe going to the Opening Gala with me?"

"Together?" she asked. A smile crept its way onto her face, and she dared to ask, "Like a date?"

"Well..." Oliver put his fork down, "If you weren't put off by me dressed in drag, then... yeah. I mean... we'll both be there, and it's bound to be boring..."

Katie nodded slowly, seeing if she understood him. "Oh. Of course. Well, if you need company, I'll be around. I think we're going as a whole Harpies unit..."

"Yes," he affirmed, not taking his eyes off her. "But I think I'd really like it if we spent the time there anyway. Y'know. Together."

Katie searched his face. He looked dead serious, which scared and excited her at the same time. "I wonder," she finally replied, "If that offer will still stand after we _cream_ Puddlemere at the opening match!"

"Mmm," Oliver mused, "Depends."

"On what?"

"If you manage to get anything past me." He quirked a brow at her.

"I was serious about scoring those goals, Captain. You'll be sorry!" She tried to suppress a laugh, to little avail.

"So is that a yes?" He looked just as chuffed.

"Only if you can handle it, Captain."

"I'll be ready for you, Kates," he glanced at her and grinned back.

Their expressions grew softer as they settled into the moment, and Katie could have sworn he was going to grab her hand. Just as he extended his fingers to brush against her arm, a rather loud _POP!_ sounded from behind them and broke the spell.

"Bootsy has the Portkey!" the elf announced victoriously, waving a pouch about. Oliver and Katie jumped in their seats. "It is round," she cooed, "Like a Quaffle."

"Heeeeyyyy, Bootsy," she airily greeted, lifting her hand to tuck some hair behind her ear. "That's amazing!"

"Oh! Er. Thanks, Bootsy," Oliver said, sounding a bit flustered. Getting to his feet, he quickly said, "Well, I guess I'd better get going."

"So soon?" Katie asked, standing up as well.

"Yeah, er. I _did_ spend the night. And practice starts in," he looked at the clock. "Two hours? Can't be too early!"

"Oh! Yeah, I understand," Katie frowned, although she didn't, really. "I guess I'll show you out?"

Taking the pouch from Bootsy, Oliver nodded. "Thank you for breakfast," he said almost curtly.

"You're welcome," Katie said.

"Oliver Wood is welcome," simpered the star-struck elf.

Katie tried to suppress the tiny feeling of resentment she held for Bootsy at that moment. Happy and oblivious to the fact, the elf snapped her fingers and vanished.

Katie walked Oliver to the door and said, "Two weeks, Captain. Watch out."

He gave her a small smile. "Oh, I will. In fact, I'm looking forward to it."

Making quick work of dropping the Portkey - a fluffy stress ball - onto his hand, he vanished as well.

Katie shut her door with tingling palms. She no longer tried to fight the smile on her face - she gave up and let the feeling of giddiness take over. Turning round, her smile dropped just as quickly when she caught a glimpse of her clock and remembered herself - and training in twenty minutes.

"Right," she sighed. It was probably a good thing that Oliver had left. Otherwise she probably would have forgotten all about it.

* * *

><p>Oliver stood, a little dazed, before the Puddlemere condominium. He couldn't remember a time when he'd found himself returning home after an entire evening out. Not that he remembered the evening prior, but it was strange nonetheless. Anyway that morning had been very pleasant, and as such, he was in a very good mood. He'd just entered the lobby when a familiar voice called him from the lounge.<p>

"Wood! Mate!" Sean Flanner loped over, his duffel bag slung around his shoulders.

Oliver quirked a brow at his teammate. Flanner was not known for his punctuality, and he was two hours early. "Oy! You're already here."

"Obviously. And you've just arrived, I see."

The Keeper offered him a sheepish grin/

"Why, don't be modest, Wood, where have you been? Disheveled hair, unshaven face, sleeping clothes... What lucky dame got to keep you for the night?"

Oliver dodged the question. "Why are you here so early?"

"Beatrice, obviously. Didn't wanna be there when she awoke, otherwise I'd have to take care that she wouldn't throw a fit. She's been rather clingy lately, you know how it is at this stage."

The Keeper merely shrugged. Good a friend as Flanner was, his business was his own.

"I was gonna crash at yours, actually," Flanner continued, "But you weren't answering the door. And no way was I going to knock on Fairfax's. Come on, tell me who it was and I'll forgive you."

"It's nothing!" Oliver insisted, brushing Flanner's hand off his shoulder. But he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He'd sort of asked Katie to be his date. Katie. Date. Datie.

"Hey. I was kidding." said Flanner as they stepped into the lift. "But now I'm really curious. You have to know I've been worried about you, Mr. Extra Virgin Oliver Oil."

"_Really_." Wood rolled his eyes.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Wood. Okay, I lied. But you know I've got a bet going with Neil and Philly? The boys have got some big Galleons on your being a homosexual. A _homosexual_! Not that there's anything wrong with that... but I'm on your side, mate! You're a warm-blooded heterosexual male._ Strapping_ man."

The Keeper shook his head good-naturedly. "You weren't going to lose that bet and you know it."

"Do I? Do I?" Flanner probed dramatically. He didn't take his eyes off Oliver as the lift stopped, and they entered Oliver's flat.

"Are we really having this conversation? Like, for real. The season starts in two weeks, mate."

Sean sighed, plopping himself down on Oliver's leather sofa. "It's not every day you, the Golden Boy, turn up from who-knows-where-you've-been-all-night, with an idiotic look on your face to boot. I love this couch," he mused, before relaunching, "You're not fooling me. Now be a good lad and tell me her name."

Oliver considered it a moment, and then said, "You could ask Bruna Geyser." He strode into his room, knowing he'd been a little cruel. But Flanner simply loved to chat and gossip, much more so than the average male. It irked Oliver a little, and it was one of the two reasons the PR team loved him so. The other was probably his charm.

"What!" Flanner came running. "You wouldn't. I know you wouldn't." He pointed a finger.

"Don't be mental, it's not actually Geyser," Oliver grumbled, his mood souring a little. "Besides, you and I know you can't go down that road again. And before you ask, mate, nothing happened."

"Bruna or no, I'm a changed man. Beatrice couldn't even tell. And since when do you tell me to relax? This woman must be a - a - she's a Harpy, isn't she!" Flanner put the pieces together excitedly.

With his back turned, Oliver shrugged, but he felt his ears growing pink. He was used to being teased, but not when his tormentors were actually correct. Looking for something to do, he reached into his wardrobe for his protective gear.

"Yes, yes," Flanner muttered to himself. "Can't be the Beaters. Can't be Bruna. Is it the Seeker? Perky redhead?"

"No." Why wasn't Flanner ever this excited when they were talking_ actual _Quidditch? Why? Why?

"Germont? No - she's engaged. I know - it's Wilda Griffiths! You sly _bastard_. Davies will be so jealous."

Oliver scoffed softly and shook his head. Had his dragonhide shin pads always been this dark? Or was it because he'd changed polish brands?

"Well then who is it? Don't tell me it's Jones?" Sean suppressed a shudder.

With a laugh, Oliver said, "She's terrifying."

"Oliver Wood? Fear a Beater?" Flanner pretended to look flabbergasted. "But thank Merlin. Come on now, we don't have all day."

Oliver turned around, clutching his gear tightly. "I was just accidentally hijacked by my friend, alright? Katie Bell. And I missed my morning suicides because of it."

A look of uncertainty briefly passed over Flanner's face, and then he clarified, "The rookie? The girl at the shoot?"

"She's my friend from Hogw-"

"The one in the magazine! Your mystery girl, then!" Flanner jubilantly wagged a finger at him.

"Shhh! Fairfax is probably still asleep upstairs. If you wake her, she'll skin your arse."

"You're getting it on with your mystery girl! And here I thought you only snogged Quaffles!" the Chaser cried again, kneeling down on the floor. "Thank Merlin, thank Morgana, thank - ow!"

Oliver forcefully threw a pillow at his face to silence him. "I told you. Nothing happened."

Flanner sighed, and Oliver could almost detect something - was it pity? - in his eyes. "But you like her."

"Why does everyone keep asking me that."

"Because it's bloody obvious. I saw that magazine, can't believe she wasn't my first guess. Not to mention you're actually out of your flat, _socializing._"

Flanner said it like it was taboo. Oliver raised a brow.

"And because Priscilla may have tried to ask Davies and me if we knew anything about her."

"She _what!_" Oliver's eyes widened in alarm.

"See?" Flanner hugged the pillow and smirked. "Obvious now, isn't it."

"And what does it matter? PR? Priscilla beat you to it."

"No, no, no. I'm gonna be straight with you, if you don't mind. Wood, you've always been happy with just Quidditch, and then you'd lock yourself in your little man-cave, scrawling in that diary of yours -"

"It's a _playbook, _not a diary."

"-like a madman serial killer... Not even Fairfax's come-ons or a round of Firewhisky could lure you out. And now I have to find out from Priscilla that you have a life? And that you fancy someone? That is pretty damn scary, Wood. Not to mention hurtful. I took you under my wing!"

"I do _not_ act like a serial killer."

"Antisocial, obsessive tendencies..."

"Sod off."

"I was teasing earlier, but I'm serious, now Wood," and Flanner meant it. "You're a good kid. But not everything's about Quidditch, and I think you're only starting to get that. Whoever this girl is must be something to get you out of this compound all night. Swapping Quidditch tips... and spit."

The thought seemed to tickle Flanner. Oliver only twitched his lips.

"So you're going out, right? We could double. You, her, Bruna, me."

Oliver looked at him resignedly. No point hiding things from Flanner when he was clearly on a mission. "She just, uh, agreed to go to the Opening Gala with me."

"The Gala."

"Yeah, the Gala."

"That doesn't bloody count!"

"Why not!"

"Attendance is sort of mandatory. Everyone's gonna be there."

Oliver hadn't thought of that. "Oh."

"Do you think she'd agree if you asked her out on a normal date?"

Oliver's spirits sank even lower. He felt like an ickle first year, still unable to talk to girls, still unable to get a date. "I -"

"Oh, come on, mate. Don't tell me you've friendzoned yourself." Flanner stared at Oliver intently.

Oliver shot him a halfhearted glare.

"I'm just calling it like I see it. You're telling me that the top seeded Keeper in the League can't even seal the deal? You need to be the same fearless troll - intelligent fearless troll - that you are on the pitch! Deadly mercenary! You want her, you better go out and grab her! Like you mean it! And then take her for all she's worth!"

"She's not some _prize_."

Flanner got up, pretended to dust himself off, and sauntered out the room. "You know what I mean. I'm gonna take a nap," he called. "Wake me up when it's time."

* * *

><p>It took Katie all of five minutes to confess to an understanding Bruna what had happened, but she was still surprised that by the first water break, everybody already knew what happened.<p>

"Atta girl, Rookie! He's _such_ a hottie!" cooed Glinda. "But I couldn't _do_ that... Puddlemere, you know?"

"You better be careful. No messing around as soon as the season starts! But he seems a fine young man, would he be a worthy escort for our dear Katie?" Vanna added, eyes twinkling.

"I thought he and Flanner were boyfriends," mused Annie, quite uncharacteristically. Katie and Bruna gaped at her. "Sorry," she said with her American drawl.

Wilda reserved but a smug grin for Katie, whereas Gwenog said nothing. Katie didn't have to ask to know she disapproved.

"Now you've done it," Katie told Bruna as their captain marched away. "Gwen's angry with me."

"Nah," Bruna replied. "Well, okay, a little, maybe. But this was an accident, right? Anyway you should see her when Wilda has blokes over. Rage!"

"The house elf mentioned something about Wilda's guests. I'm beginning to think she's kind of infamous for this sort of thing."

"The less you know about that, the better." Bruna kicked off towards her goal posts. Katie rolled her eyes and followed.

"Is anyone ever gonna tell me anything?"

Coach King's whistle sounded. "Well?" she screeched, "What are you witches waiting for? Scrimmage!"

The rest of Katie's day was taken up by battling phantom players, all of whom seemed a little more violent. And just once, reminiscent of her tryout, she could have sworn that Gwen intentionally hit a Bludger her way. _Great_.

Scrimmage had never felt like such a blur to Katie. Was it just her, or were the phantoms particularly rough? Was it just her, or did the phantoms look like Puddlemere players? And was it just her, or did the Keeper look just like Oliver - with fangs? And was that a devil tail attached to his bum?

It was all a bit jarring. It felt like a lifetime before Glinda caught the Snitch, and Katie felt nothing but relief when the tiny Seeker waved it, triumphant but exhausted. The hourglasses revealed that they'd been playing for nearly six hours non-stop - ridiculously long for practice. Even their friendly games lasted three hours, tops. Professional games lasted around that long, too. But Katie rationalized that they had to be ready for any possibility.

When she touched down, a harried-looking Coach Caroline quickly ran over her stats: only fifteen out of twenty-four attempts at the goal, with nine rebounds and seven assists. Her foul throw percentage against the phantom Keeper was pretty low, but her steals were above average. Fairly good, all things considered. But Katie couldn't even remember doing half those things. She felt like -

"Those moving suits of armor, Bell," said Coach King wryly, stopping Katie before she entered the locker room. "What do Muggles call them? Row boats?"

"Er, robots?" Katie muttered.

"Well. You were playing like one of those. Real slow, too."

"I'm -"

"No, no. Don't apologize yet. C'mere, Rookie, let's toss a few Quaffles."

Katie was nonplussed. Apart from her interview, she'd never had the chance to speak to Coach King one-on-one. Pulling her gloves and arm pads back, Katie followed her coach back to the pitch.

"A little bird told me you had an interesting visitor last night." King sounded casual, but Katie had to tread lightly. When angry, the coach could outscreech a banshee.

"Was it Bruna?"

"No, the fanatic house elf. Talkative little one, too - I rather preferred it when she was afraid of Gafton."

"Bootsy's... alright."

"Mmm. What wasn't alright, missy, was your game today. Below average, even." Coach King handed her a Quaffle. "Toss it here. Let's see what we can do about that throw, yeah?"

Katie did as she said, feeling a bit self-conscious as she did so.

"No, no. Just do it like you always do. Just focus."

Taking a breath, Katie threw the ball, leading with her shoulder.

"Good. Again."

She aimed for Coach King's chest.

"Again. Relax your wrist."

"One more. Don't over-arch your shoulder. Put your back into it."

"Good. Give it here."

As Katie fell into her trance, she wondered if she really was ready. Did she have what it took to play for six or more hours straight and perform consistently against Puddlemere? Oh gods, her offense today was crap. And her defense certainly left something to be desired. What would Oliver think -

"Stop!"

Katie halted in the middle of her throw, and the Quaffle sank slowly onto the grass. "Yes, Coach?"

"What was going on in your head the last three throws?"

Katie blinked at her. She couldn't remember. "Er..."

"Come on, Bell. We don't have all day. You didn't notice that you were throwing them directly at my face? Or at my knees? And that form! I'd think you were still in second string at Hogwarts!"

A blush crept over Katie's face. "I wasn't focusing, Coach, I'm sorry."

"You didn't answer my question. What's on your mind, Rookie? You can't afford to be distracted." The coach wasn't screaming or screeching like Katie was so used to hearing. Her regular speaking voice, while still high, was actually much more pleasant. Gentle, even.

"Well," Katie started, "I guess I'm a little nervous. I'm not really the sort to think things through so hard before they're about to happen, but this is pretty big."

"What is?"

Katie shrugged, tossing the Quaffle again. "This whole Pro Quidditch thing. Playing a _real_ game against my idols. Against... oh, sod it. You know about Oliver Wood, right?"

"Wood. Bloody brilliant Keeper. Your guest of honor." Coach King smirked as she threw the Quaffle back, Katie's original problem ignored.

"It's not what you think - he accidentally touched a Portkey I sent."

Coach King nodded. "I believe you."

"You aren't angry?"

"Am I?"

Katie shrugged. "Gwen is, it seems."

The coach shook her peroxide curls. "Not my style, kid. But I can make a few intelligent guesses: you're afraid of playing against Puddlemere because you're good friends with Wood. More than friends, even?"

"Yes. I mean, no. We're just friends... but to be honest, I do feel uneasy about playing against him. We'd always been on the same team. Until now, anyway."

"So you know his strengths."

"You could say that."

"And his weaknesses?"

"Y...es."

"Good," said Coach King, adding a little more edge to her voice. "Then we shouldn't have anything to worry about."

_Whoa, what? _Katie felt confused. She thought Coach King was on the verge of giving her sage advice, or comfort, or something. Why had their conversation taken a turn for the strategic?

"Sorry?"

"Listen, kid," Coach King said less kindly, "I don't know you very well just yet. But I do know that you're a damn good flier. I'd gotten more than I hoped for with you - you have good chemistry with the girls, and we haven't had to make too many adjustments. Do you know how difficult it would have been to start from scratch?"

"Very, I imagine, Coach." Katie recalled when George and Fred dropped out, and when Ange and Alicia had graduated. Creating their new lineup was a nightmare.

"Correct. You had it easy, young lady."

"I suppose did." Katie agreed, heart sinking a little. This did not help reassure her at all. Training with the Harpies was not as physically taxing as she thought it would be. Mentally, however...

"Maybe too easy. I usually gave my rookies hell. Bru, Glinda, Annie, Wilda... ask 'em. But that was back when I had a full roster of second stringers to choose from. Nowadays, as you may have noticed, we keep our bench to zero. Preserves the glamour, you know."

"The glamour, Coach?"

"Of playing for an elite all-witch team. Too many of the reserves were just in it for a chance at fame. Raul's wannabe models, that sort. Talent-wise I had little to cultivate, and in any case substitutions aren't even allowed."

Coach King continued, "My point is this. We may have lucked out with you, but don't think that means you're entitled. You may have a spot on this team but you have yet to earn your stripes. Certain... _privileges_, shall we call them, are reserved for when you've proven yourself."

Katie grit her teeth, knowing Coach King had been referring to her bringing Oliver in. "It won't happen again."

"The game is in two weeks. I want you focused. No distractions, and you'll be golden. From tomorrow until game day, I want you to practice everything you know against Wood. Help your coaches and the Chasers study him. Understood?"

Guilt bubbled up in Katie's chest. It felt like betrayal, but she had to be professional, didn't she? And Coach King, while seemingly bipolar, certainly had a point. "Yes, Coach," she replied glumly.

Coach King threw the Quaffle at her one final time. "Good. Put that away. Hit the showers, Bell."

Katie walked back feeling dejected. She'd been lured into the possibility of girl talk with Coach King, only to be scolded? What had been an accidental visit now loomed over her head like a weird issue. It was her fault - she had let her anxiety over Oliver affect her game. But she found it a little bit disheartening that everyone - even the ones that seemed to like Oliver as a person - seemed to have something against their friendship. Could Bruna have been right? Was it really that big of a deal? Two parts of her were struggling: her sense of duty to her team, and her sense of loyalty to Oliver. Those two sentiments had never been separate before. Suddenly she wasn't as excited for the game or the Gala.

Later that night, Katie opened her journal. Right on schedule, Oliver was scribbling away. But instead of his usual Xs and Os, or performance logs, he was writing a note directly to her.

_Hi Kates,_ h_ow was practice today? Ours was a bit weird. Let's just say I'd never been less inclined to share everything I know about a player until now. Three guesses?_

Katie picked up her quill, wistful.

**I'm guessing they wanted the dirt on me.**

Might as well put that out there. It made her even more glum - and to think her day had started so well. This felt like her morning's polar opposite.

_Yes, you could say that. I realized though (and this cheered me up greatly) that I haven't actually seen you play since my last year at Hogwarts._

**Well, I don't think I'm such an eyesore to watch...**

_That's not what I meant. It means the information I have is outdated. I told them as much. You, on the other hand, have this entire playbook to guide you. Cheat._

**Ha! Now if only I could bring myself to read it... Zzzz.**

_Hey. This is a masterpiece!_

**I'm sure they'll put it in a museum someday.**

_Or you could just keep it._

**Or I could just keep it. Yeah.**

_You sound down. Or you... read down. Everything ok?_

**Yeah, I've just got the same thing on my mind as you do.**

_Oh... making plays against me already, huh?_

**It kind of sucks, Captain.**

_Well, same here._

**Is everything always this dramatic when the Harpies play Puddlemere? I thought Quidditch was supposed to be fun.**

_Something tells me I'm not your only problem._

**You're probably the main thing. Maybe.**

_Ouch._

**Sorry. Ol, do you think maybe it would be better if we stopped using the playbooks til this stupid game is over? Like, just so we can focus and stuff. Is that weird?**

This time, Oliver didn't reply. She added:

**It's not like we can talk about tactics or anything with each other til then anyway, right?**

****Katie bit her lip. The thought _really_ upset her. It was a while before Oliver did reply.

_I respect that, Kates. Good on you for prioritizing. A superstar's gotta do what she's gotta do. :-)_

When Katie failed to reply, he added:

_And Quidditch is never a stupid game._

Finally she penned,

**I miss us being teammates.**

_Me too, Kates. Two weeks, then?_

**Two weeks, Captain :)**

Katie shut the journal and knocked herself over the head for her dramatics. She tucked it away - buried it in the depths of one of her pillowcases - and swore not to open it for a fortnight. Girl power! She didn't need Oliver to reassure her that she knew what she was doing. But for the first night since she'd been there, she fell asleep feeling nervous and utterly alone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! The season opens next! :O Review and cast your bets! I'd really appreciate it :)**


	17. Big Beginnings

**A/N: I'm sorry for not updating immediately, but thank you all for your kind words and reviews for the last chapter! I'm at 200 reviews, which is crazy since I'm the worst at this updating thing. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. I really appreciate your feedback and only wish I could reciprocate by updating more frequently. Between the last chapter and this one, I took a trip to France and got a job! I've also had to use a different laptop for work, which left me little time to fix this chapter up. Soooo a lot of this chapter might seem awfully familiar if you've read ****_Freshly Showered _****til the end, but I've changed up quite a few things!**

**Another reason I haven't updated: this chapter is supersized, and so it took me extra long to decide what to scrap and what to keep. You have been warned.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17 - Big Beginnings<strong>

_"Good evening, witches and wizards, hags and warlocks, ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys! Happy Halloween and welcome to our broadcast from Ilkley Moor Stadium, right here in Yorkshire, England. I'm Noah Winsome!"_

_"And I'm Jimmy Dunifer! We'll be your commentators for the evening, and we're pleased to report that the stadium is packed as we await the beginning of the first match of the Quidditch League's new season! _

_"We've got an interesting toss-up tonight, with Puddlemere United playing their lovely longtime rivals, the Holyhead Harpies. If you folks recall, both Puddlemere and the Harpies narrowly missed entry into the semis last season, but it's certainly not out of lack of talent! Puddlemere boasts the likes of twenty-two year old Oliver Wood, who won Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Keeper in the Annual Quidditch Awards just the other year. That was his first year off the reserves, and boy has he been a mainstay! Without a doubt he's in a class of his own; then of course there are his flock of ladies. They're simply mad about Oliver Wood, as well the other gents of Puddlemere United. They swept up quite some awards from _Witch Weekly_, haven't they, Noah?"_

"_Yes, I believe so. The ladies have missed their Quidditch men! Of course, thanks to the Dark Lord's shenanigans, we missed us an entire season, so we have yet to see what new things Wood and the rest of Puddlemere have come up with in the duration of the Great Quidditch Drought!"_

_"Yes, thank Merlin it's over! Puddlemere's even got themselves a new Chaser. Making his debut from the reserves is Roger Davies! Another Hogwarts product, a Ravenclaw. Captain of his team, a former nemesis of Oliver Wood. This lad was scouted by Puddlemere upon his graduation two years prior. He's not half bad, and shaping up to be quite the favorite amongst the ladies too! Perhaps he could even surpass Wood in popularity."_

"_But that's not to say that the Harpies won't be giving him and Wood a run for their money, because they've got a few new tricks up their sleeve! After having lost their star chaser, Joan Gafton, to the forces of the Dark Lord, many felt hope was lost for the Harpies, but they're bouncing back with fresh new talent in the likes of Katherine, or, as she prefers to be called, Katie Bell! And wouldn't you know it, when they contacted her, she'd been working in the Muggle world! That's because this nineteen-year-old rookie has had her own share of curses: did you know, Jimmy, that she fell victim to a nasty cursed necklace in her final year at Hogwarts?"_

"_Merlin's pantaloons, Noah. That was her? I guess it's no wonder she wanted to steer clear of magic for a while."_

"_Yes! The very one. Bell missed a few games at Hogwarts because of that. Fortunately she was healthy enough to help her house, Gryffindor win the Finals, and get this! She had already been scouted by not only the Harpies but also last season's champions, the Tutshill Tornadoes! She chose to play for the former, however, as a matter of sentiment."_

_"Indeed! That's quite an astonishing background for our pretty new Harpy. Nice paradox, eh, Jim? Have you gents seen photographs? A model, this one –!"_

"_Well, Noah! Thank Merlin that's all over and done with, and that Miss Bell is in tip-top shape! You-Know-Who is dead, the Quidditch Drought is over, and we've got ourselves a lovely, most festive Halloween eve for the sport!"_

_"Look at this illuminated stadium, folks. Freshly mowed grass, newly polished hoops… Stunning! What say you Jim? I'm very excited see what Miss Bell has to offer. She's got some big shoes to fill!"_

The commentators gabbed on about their sunny predictions for both the game and Katie's career. Katie, on the other hand, was feeling no such cheer.

"I think I could use the fact that I was cursed as a good excuse for messing up entirely," Katie deadpanned as she listened.

"Hon, you'll do great," nudged Vanna. "Gwen and I have got you covered on both sides. Just play like you did at your tryout and they won't know what hit 'em!"

"You think?" Katie strapped her gloves on tighter. "They're comparing me to _Joan Gafton_."

"Get your head in the game, Bell," commanded Bruna, who Katie found was quite intense when she was in the zone. "Of course they'll compare. And not to badmouth the deceased, but you're a much better team player than Joanie was. She was a right cow. And she played real dirty too. Come on, you should be excited to cream Puddlemere! I know I am!"

Katie wondered if it had anything to do with Flanner. She decided not to ask. "Thank Merlin for Wilda and Annie," she mumbled instead. "I don't think anything's made me so nervous in my life."

"What's making you nervous! It better not be Wood!" Gwenog barked from her bench.

"Speaking of the lesser sex," she smirked at Bruna, "I don't want to see you acting like a bipolar cow in front of Flanner. It's a miracle he still fancies you after all the bizarre things you've pulled. But mark my words, I'll punt a Bludger right at ya if I catch you doing that snarling hair flip thing at him more than twice this time. Is that your special version of a rabid come-on?"

Bruna bristled at the accusation. "Dunno what you're talking about, Gwen. The game comes first, you know that."

"That's right." Gwen sounded almost patronizing.

"I don't have time for idiots like Flanner. Besides, he gets far fewer goals past me than he does past any other Keeper," Bruna huffed.

"And yet you can't seem to get enough of him each time we play Puddlemere," Wilda retorted. "You should see yourself. It's like you relish getting to turn him down when he asks you out afterwards! Don't deny it, you're expecting him to do it again!"

Bruna gaped prettily at her.

Katie was glad the attention had shifted away from her. She left her teammates to chat amongst themselves and glanced anxiously towards the pitch.

She had a lot of people to impress tonight. Her folks, George and Angelina were surely sitting together in the sponsors' box by now. She'd sent Alicia a ticket as well, with the warning that the others would be there, so she doubted her friend would come and watch. Then of course she had to impress her team's management, the media, the pro Quidditch population, and all of Wizarding Britain that cared about Quidditch... Oh, and Oliver, with whom she hadn't spoken in a fortnight. He knew she'd been practicing against his every strength, and he'd surely been doing the same against hers. "_Yeah," _she thought._ "No pressure... none whatsoever."_

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in the Puddlemere Locker Room, Oliver was positively itching for the game to begin. Fiddling with the straps of his Keeping gloves, he bobbed about in place.<p>

"What's up with you, Wood?" laughed veteran Chaser Sean Flanner. "You're usually more... _stoic_ before a game. That or you feel like heaving. Halloween moon messing with your brain?"

"Mate, I'm excited, not agitated," paced Wood, smiling. "I have a good feeling about this game."

"Oh yeah? I think we've got a good chance myself. Think Bru's in a good mood?" pondered the Chaser.

"Dunno, mate. How long have you been barking up that dead tree?"

"Too long. I won't stop trying til she agrees to speak with me. I'm just lucky she hasn't hexed me yet." chuckled Sean. "And I just don't have the heart to shoot mine Quaffle through her golden hoops."

"But isn't that just what you want to do?" A heavy hand clapped on Oliver's shoulder. Roger Davies stepped into their conversation, thrusting his hips in a lewd fashion towards Oliver's head. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

"What?" Oliver scowled. "Get out of my face."

"Wood, I think Bell's gonna give us a run for our money just like she used to. You more than me, of course. And you'll be like ol' Flanner here and try to score _that_."

"Show some respect, Davies. I can still keep up with you whippersnappers. But apparently not with the times... So, Wood. Ready to destroy your schoolyard crush and any chances of ever dating her?" Flanner rubbed his hands together.

"Sod off," Oliver murmured, missing all the teasing. His mind was on the game. "She's not to be taken lightly. Great aim, better instincts. Nolan's got Davies guarding her. She was my –"

"Girlfriend," Roger interrupted. "Or he wishes," he cackled.

"Oh?"

"_Chaser_," said Oliver hotly. "She was my Chaser. Damn good, too. Some days, she could put goal after goal past me."

"Believe me, mate," Roger turned to Sean, gesturing his hands in a vague, mystical way. "No one would dare go near Katie Bell. She's so hot when she plays? Like, she was probably the only thing that could throw Wood off his game with a single hairflip. Wood here would glare at anyone who expressed remotely any interest in her. Look, just like that!" he laughed at Oliver, who was indeed staring daggers at him. "And after Wood graduated, Katie wouldn't even give us other poor blokes a shot with her."

"Do tell," begged Sean, listening closer. And then, "Is this going to be an issue?"

"She got cursed, remember," grumbled Oliver. "There wasn't much time for blokes. Bloody good thing, too, because her game would have suffered. Focus, the game's in five. And no, I can save just fine."

"Let's hope I can score past the lovely Bruna," sighed Flanner dramatically.

"I've got my eye on Wilda Griffiths," laughed Davies, ignoring him.

"She's five years older than you," frowned Oliver.

"So? I like my women older. They've got this... sexy power, y'know? And the addition of Bell just makes this little fixation of ours more interesting."

"How so?" the Keeper raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we always enjoy an eyeful of the Harpies, with the exception of Gwenog, of course."

"She scares me," shivered Sean.

Roger continued, "And now that Bell's on the team, even Oliver Wood has to take some interest, yes?"

"Shut it Davies." Oliver rested his chin on his arms. He'd forgotten how tiresome Roger could be.

"If that's so, I'd like to make a bet," smirked Davies. "If Bell gets more than five goals past you, you wear a kilt to the opening party tonight."

"And if I make more than five saves against Bell, you wear my kilt," Oliver replied wearily.

"I'm not even Scottish!"

"So? It _is_ Halloween."

"Aren't you two overestimating this girl? Five goals, let alone five attempts, is pretty steep for a first-timer," asked Sean apprehensively.

"Oh you'll see," Oliver's smile betrayed some pride. After all, he'd trained with Katie from the start.

"Are we on or not?" goaded Roger. "Shake on it."

"Wait! I want in on this bet," ceded Sean. "Merlin help me. If I can't get five goals past Geyser today, I'll wear the bloody thing too. And I'm just as English as you are, Davies." He placed his hands over the two younger men's heads. "Are we on?"

Oliver and Roger stared each other down playfully. "Deal."

"Say Wood, did you shower?" asked Flanner, wiping his hand down his robes. "Your head's all wet. Don't tell me that's nervous sweat already?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," smiled Wood to himself. "I just took a shower."

"Before the game? That, son, is sketchy behavior," jested Roger in a manner not unlike the Weasley Twins'.

"Force of habit, sorry mate."

* * *

><p>George and Angelina sat next to Mr. and Mrs. Bell, waiting for a sign that the match would begin. They were decked in green, but bore stripes of blue down their cheeks - "A compromise," they assured Katie's folks, so they could show their support for both Katie and Oliver.<p>

"But mostly for Katie," said George winningly, to appease Ed Bell. But Gladys Bell did not care - she asked them to paint blue stripes down her cheeks so that she, too, could support "their darling Oliver."

"I'm just here for my girl," beamed Ed Bell, "And for some Quidditch! What's takin' 'em?"

It was indeed a lovely night, and the stadium was buzzing with life and magic. The scent of Butterbeer, pumpkin pasties, and fresh-fried Barking Weiners permeated the stadium, which was filled to capacity with boisterous wizards and witches. George felt a particular frisson of excitement when he saw a lot of his seasonal merchandise being used by audience members.

"Hey, isn't that one of your Crack-o-Ween firecrackers?" Ange laughed, pointing at a small display of spiderweb sparks up in the stadium's rafters.

"Yeah, and those delinquent kids have got some of our Trick or Treat bombs! Look at 'em, up to no good." They watched as said children, Puddlemere fans, dropped their candy bombs onto unsuspecting green-clad grown-ups far down below. They broke and spilled what looked like a whole vat of blue slime on them.

"Trick. They make me so proud," George pretended to wipe a tear away.

"Uh oh, that'll be Security," Ange pointed out a few irate stadium officers making their way to the children. "Wheezes is gonna be banned for sure."

"Wicked."

Before they could see the outcome of that particular prank, a flash of lights and the boom of the game announcer's voice silenced the crowd.

_"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WITCHES AND WIZARDS! IT'S TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME!"_

The stadium lights dimmed as the crowd roared its approval. Wind formations lit up in blue and green spun around the stadium, blowing gusts at the exhilarated crowd. The people only cheered louder, thrilled by the display.

"Yeeees!" jumped George, and Angelina giggled excitedly beside him.

_"ONE YEAR DORMANT HAS BEEN FAR TOO LONG! WE ARE BACK, GOOD SIRS AND MADAMS! THE QUIDDITCH LEAGUE OF 1999!"_

"It's gotten quite loud here, isn't it, Ed?" Mrs. Bell asked over the noise.

"Pardon?" Mr. Bell shouted back.

_"TONIGHT - ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? WE'VE GOT THE BAD BOYS IN BLUE PLAYING FOR YOU - GIVE IT UP FOR PUDDLEMEEEEEREEE UUUUUUUNITEEEEEEEEED!_

_"FLANNER! DAVIES! FAIRFAX! WOOD! BORODIN! WILSON! AAAAAAND WILLIAMS!"_

Female shrieks rose above the noise of the crowd as seven blurs of blue zoomed out from the gates down below.

"It's Oliver!" Angelina clutched Mrs. Bell's arm.

"WHERE!"

The Keeper in question did a lap with his team round the pitch and past the box, waving, if somewhat perfunctorily, at the spectators before taking position by his team at the center of the pitch.

"He's got his game face on, Mr. Bell," George teased.

"Nothing my Katie can't handle!" boomed her father confidently.

The commentator continued, _"GOING AGAINST THE BOYS IN BLUE ARE THE LOVELY LADIES OF THE LEAGUE, THE FIERCE, THE FANTASTIC HOLYHEEEEAAAAAAD HARPIIIIIIIIIIIEEEESSS!_

_"GET OFF YOUR SEATS! IT'S GRIFFITHS! GRANT! BELL! GEYSER! JONES! GERMONT! AAAAAAAAAND CHAPMAN!"_

A streamlined whoosh of green took to the skies, breaking up into a choreographed entrance of dizzying flips and corkscrew spins that the Harpies were well-known for. Die hard fans screeched their support, and Mr. Bell was amused to witness a few of them sobbing out of sheer joy a few rows away.

Much had been said about Katie by the commentators while the stadium was filling up - predictions, pros and cons. He'd even seen that cheat, Brevis Birch, seated in their box. Ed Bell willed his daughter to prove all her early naysayers wrong. "Show 'em, baby girl," he muttered as he watched her take her place in the semicircle, at the edge of their line and next to Oliver Wood. His wife clutched his arm a little tighter.

The crowd simmered down in anticipation. Below, two assistant refereed held the official chest of balls, awaiting the head referee's cue.

With a _Sonorus_-ed voice, the ref announced, _"I want a good clean match. Contact is unavoidable but illegal contact will not be tolerated. Play hard, play fair. Gameplay begins at the Quaffle's release and stops officially when the Snitch is captured. Do I make myself clear?"_

The players nodded their heads. Mr. Bell didn't have the best eyesight, but he could see his daughter's head bent down, avoiding the gaze of... Wood? He couldn't be sure.

_"Captains, shake hands."_

Gwenog Jones, that terrifying woman, clasped Sean Flanner's hand and gave it a good jostle. The latter took it gamely, and the teams lined up according to the game's rules.

The referee made quick work of releasing the Snitch, and then the Bludgers, and finally the Quaffle as blurs of green and blue scuffled in the air for first possession. The match had begun!

* * *

><p><em>"I got this, I got this," <em>Katie chanted in her mind as she and Wilda pressured Isadora Fairfax on both sides. The Puddlemere Chaser had been quicker than they in the mad scramble for the Quaffle, and flew like a dart towards their goal. She could hear Fairfax snarling, and checked her periphery for the rest of Puddlemere's squad. To her right, she saw Davies moving in to intercept. Just when Fairfax made to pass the ball, Katie broke away and snatched it before Davies could.

_"STEAL!"_ bellowed an announcer, _"BY KATIE BELL!"_

She flipped on herself and made for the other end of the pitch. Easily dodging a Bludger sent her way, she narrowed her eyes and sensed her other teammates. She knew Annie was close by, but Wilda had been held up by a furious Fairfax. Would first blood be hers to draw?

Heart racing, she looked up at her goal and saw Oliver, face etched in concentration.

_"Shoot, dammit!" _She could have sworn Coach King was screaming right in her ear. But as she raised her arm for the kill, she saw Oliver's face, choked, and passed the Quaffle to a bewildered Annie. The American fumbled it for a second but attempted a goal. Oliver saved it with minimal effort.

He held the Quaffle in his hands and met Katie's eyes. For a split second he looked almost... disappointed? Why had she passed that Quaffle? Why didn't she shoot? In the background she could hear the announcers Her face fell. She had but another split second to gather her bearings when Annie grabbed her by the arm and screamed, "LET'S GO, BELL! COME ON!"

_"Shit!"_ Katie screamed. Oliver had lobbed the Quaffle long towards Sean Flanner, who very narrowly dodged Gwen's Bludger. He wove past Wilda's clawing, and Katie found herself unable to help as he threw the ball swiftly towards the right goal. Quick as lightning, Bruna saved it and glared at the impassive Chaser. That was close.

"Bru!" Wilda roared. "Here!"

The Keeper snapped out of her angry trance and threw the Quaffle. Wilda caught it, and Katie and Annie automatically flanked her on both sides to protect her. They soared up and over an oncoming Beater, and spaced themselves as they approached the goal. Wilda rolled left and passed the Quaffle to Annie, who faked an attempt and passed it, cross-goal, to Katie. Katie didn't even notice Oliver fly before her when she caught the Quaffle and forced it into the center hoop. She emitted a small scream.

_"THE ROOKIE, KATIE BELL SCORES!"_ the commentator drowned her out. _"TEN-ZERO, HOLYHEAD!"_

The crowd in green went wild. Katie's teammates jostled her and patted her head in celebration.

"Nice one!" cried Wilda.

Katie saw Oliver's face for the first time since she scored and found a mix of pride and confusion in his expression. She knew he was okay when he gave her a tiny grin before passing the Quaffle quickly to Davies.

"It's on, Kates!" he yelled as she retreated to chase Roger.

She allowed herself to grin and urged her broom forward.

* * *

><p><em>"The match has indeed begun, folks, and at ten-nil, this game seems to be going the Harpies' way."<em>

_"Yes, Jim, talk about setting the pace! This lass, Katie Bell, doesn't mess around, does she? Her first attempt was shaky at best but she's quickly warmed up to it."_

_"It's early yet but you can see where Coach King has planted her seeds. Solid work on her Chaser lineup there and - WHOA! Nasty collision between Gwenog Jones and Philly Wilson over that Bludger."_

_"Well, she's Gwenog Jones, mate!"_

_"Borodin and Germont playing nice on the other side of the pitch - OH! Wilson punts it hard to disrupt that Harpies V and he succeeds! Puddlemere ball. Jones is not happy -"_

_"Isadora Fairfax with the steal, wide open for the fast break - easy pickings, I think, AND SHE SCORES! Into the center hoop to even out this match ten-all! Geyser passes the ball to Bell - Bell to Griffiths, corkscrew turn past Flanner, passes to Grant, Grant shoots - great angle - NO GOOD!"_

_"Where did Wood come from! Wood to Davies, Davies to Fairfax. Fairfax snaps the Quaffle back to Davies - NO! Bell intercepts!"_

_"Bell passes to Griffiths, fancy finger roll - a fakeout - KATIE BELL SCORES!"_

_"THIS GIRL IS EITHER BLESSED WITH BEGINNER'S LUCK OR SHE'S A TOTAL DYNAMO! TWENTY-TEN, HARPIES! I LOVE THIS!"_

_"Wood doesn't know what hit him! He must mean business now. Quaffle to Flanner -"_

_"Flanner's assembled his squad in a mean reverse-V. They're not letting that Quaffle go!"_

_"Yes, Puddlemere is usually bigger on defense - slow starters, though! You can't even tell who's holding that ball! Harpies Chasers looking for a way to penetrate. So far no good -"_

_"No rush, eh, Noah? Germont and Jones seem to be struggling - they can't break those Bludgers free from the Iron Brothers!"_

_"There it is, Jim, Flanner taking it down to the grass. Tosses it up to Fairfax - Fairfax surrounded! Barrel roll over Davies - pass to Davies, slim chance at a block by Griffiths - and SCORE! Davies' first goal for Puddlemere!"_

_"MERLIN, this is shaping up to be one heck of a match. Twenty-all, now, folks, if you're seeing this on the wizzy telly, don't go anywhere!"_

* * *

><p>Up in the box, Gladys Bell was frantic. "Katherine!?" she screeched as her daughter, clutching the Quaffle, collided brutally with Roger Davies.<p>

"Is this game always so... ungraceful?" The game, all _fifty-three minutes_ of it, had gone on quite long enough, _thank you_, and with the score neck-and-neck at seventy apiece, Mrs. Bell had had quite enough.

Her protests were drowned out as Katie screened Davies to assist Wilda Griffiths as she scored a long-range goal.

"YES!" jumped Katie's father to the announcers' cry of, _"WILDAAAA GRIFFITHS! HARPIES LEAD EIGHTY-SEVENTY!"_

"When does it end, Ed!"

"When they catch the Snitch, love!"

"Which is when! Katherine needs to get _down_ from there!" she tugged at his sleeve as the _CRACK!_ of a Beater's bat against a Bludger resounded through the pitch. "Immediately!"

"Just enjoy," Ed began to say, when the crowd hissed and went, "Oooooooohhhhhhh." It seemed the Bludger had met its target.

The crowd craned their necks as the announcer stated, _"NEIL BORODIN'S BLUDGER MAKES CONTACT WITH WILDA GRIFFITHS' SHOULDER FROM THE FRONT!"_

_"SHE'S STRUGGLING - CAN SHE PULL HERSELF BACK ON THAT BROOM WITH ONE ARM?"_

_"YES! SHE'S DONE IT! BUT SHE'S IN POOR SHAPE - HER SHOULDER SEEMS TO BE OUT OF COMMISSION FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT!"_

_"GAMEPLAY STILL ONGOING - GRIFFITHS REFUSES TREATMENT, BUT THE HARPIES NEED TO MAKE SOME MAJOR ADJUSTMENTS!"_

"Ed," whispered Gladys, shaken, "Is that girl alright?"

"It's part of the game, honey," he said somberly. Griffiths was struggling, he knew, and while that part of the game had never bothered him before, it was different knowing his daughter would be in more danger. The game changed whenever any one player got taken out of the equation. Griffiths was down but not out, but still, Katie and Grant would have to step up their game.

George leaned over, and as if he could read Mr. Bell's mind, he said, "Don't worry, Mr. Bell, Katie's totally Bludger-resistant! She once -"

_CRACK!_ The vindictive sound of another Bludger meeting its mark rang out through the stadium.

_"AND BORODIN'S BEATING ARM HAS BEEN TAKEN DOWN BY GWENOG JONES' BLUDGER! TALK ABOUT REVENGE, FOLKS!"_

_"IT LOOKS - YES, HIS ELBOW'S DEFINITELY DISLOCATED! IT SEEMS JONES HAS BROKEN SOME BONES, TOO!"_

_"HE'S GONE DOWN FOR MEDIWITCH ASSISTANCE!"_

"Less to worry about now, eh, George?" Mr. Bell breathed a sigh of relief as the game moved on.

* * *

><p><em>"Eight goals," <em>snarled Oliver to himself. Three from Griffiths, one from Grant, and, unsurprisingly, four from Katie. He was at odds with himself - happy, of course, that Katie was performing so well, and endlessly frustrated that he'd let more than his average number of goals in. Eight goals out of nineteen attempts - that was around a 40% miss rate compared to his average of 76% blocking stats. Bad.

But now wasn't the time to do math - the game was about to change. He'd been shocked back into consciousness when Neil had been struck down, his injury enough to render the Puddlemere boys more prone to danger now that Gwenog Jones had taken sole custody of the other Bludger.

As far as he could tell, his team was struggling on the offensive end. They'd done their role in defending against the Harpies, but on the scoring end they'd made far fewer attempts.

_That means I've got better stats than Geyser - STOP THAT!_ he chided himself mentally. His team needed to get to the goal faster and more aggressively.

He raised himself above the goalposts to get a clearer view. He checked on their Seeker - Benjy had perched himself above mid-field, ignoring the ruckus, save for minding the Bludgers. The Harpies' Seeker, who hovered nearby, was beginning to look frustrated - still no sign of the Snitch, and the pressure was on them to end this match early. In the fray, Griffiths was using herself as a screen in spite of having only one good arm. She was currently thwarting Flanner's attempts to steal the ball from Grant, a player whom Oliver felt hadn't quite figured him out yet. If Holyhead was smart (and they were), they'd give the Quaffle to Katie at least seven times out of ten now that Griffiths was out of the picture. Or maybe that was his bias.

As he'd predicted, Katie passed the Quaffle to Annie Grant, only to have it chucked back as they neared the goal as a tandem. Griffiths trailed behind them like a mother dolphin if only to ward off Isadora's claws. That woman could scratch like a nasty cat.

It was him versus Katie now, her face etched in concentration. She'd stopped looking at his own face ages ago, and it seemed to help her.

_"Left,"_ he predicted. _"Right - no, left."_ Katie flew her broom towards his left, and in a moment of hesitation, her eyes darted right. Oliver was there before the Quaffle was.

_"SPECTACULAR SAVE BY OLIVER WOOD!" _he heard the announcer as he watched Katie retreat.

He scanned his vicinity and tossed the ball to a breathless Sean Flanner.

"What, no barking orders?" the Chaser teased briefly. "Must be love!"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Get 'em," he called halfheartedly.

He continued his analysis as the Quaffle made its way to the other end. Without one of their Beaters, Puddlemere's defense was _just_ keeping them afloat thus far. And even their offense was hardly up to par - Flanner historically scored poorly against Geyser, and Davies had yet to crack her code. Fairfax, he felt, could have been a Harpy the way she could read the Keeper. True enough, Bruna deflected a shot by Flanner, only for the Quaffle to be scooped up by a wide open Isadora and swept into the far hoop. Tied game.

He crouched down on his broom, ignoring the cheers from the crowd. If he read the oncoming play correctly, the Quaffle would be Katie's to score, or his to save.

* * *

><p>Katie couldn't explain it, but she felt in her gut that this game was about to reach its climax. Adrenaline pumping through her veins and her pulse hammering in her ears, she urged her broom forward to catch up with Annie.<p>

She could feel her teammate's frustration emanating in waves - Annie never said it, but she didn't take very well to missing goal after goal. But timeouts were rare in their sport, and as such, their only choice was to adjust and roll with the Bludgers.

"KATE!" shouted Annie hoarsely. Isadora Fairfax had made a swipe at her teammate, but Katie was still too far to be able to help. Wilda flew along helplessly, gritting her teeth against the pain. Katie broke free from Davies, who was shadowing her, and used her broom and her body to come in between Fairfax and Annie. Fairfax swore at the shove. "_Oops."_

She took the Quaffle from Annie and flew up, higher, higher. But if she thought she'd be alone she was most certainly wrong: Fairfax followed along, as did Davies. From her periphery she could see them setting her up for a double team sandwich with maybe a Bludger on the side. Sharply she rolled down, letting them collide, and threw the Quaffle.

"Annie!"

The American caught it and nodded at her and they flew side-by-side, Wilda flying above them to block Puddlemere's Chasers.

Katie watched for any danger. Gwen had Sean Flanner struggling, and Vanna had the remaining Puddlemere Beater under good control. Up ahead, Oliver Wood guarded the center hoop.

"Now?" she nudged Annie.

"Wait," Annie snarled. "Wait... wait... _NOW!_"

Annie discreetly shoved the Quaffle into Katie's grasp as they launched themselves into identically mirrored loops towards both sides of the goal. As Katie drew herself to shoot, she realized Oliver didn't take the bait. She caught a glimpse of his frown as she made to release the ball, a mistake she immediately knew would cost her.

"ROOKIE!" screeched Wilda. Katie shook her head. She'd hesitated. _SHIT!_

Oliver jerked forward and punched the Quaffle away, but Wilda miraculously deflected it back to Katie, who caught it and jammed it into the center hoop. Oliver slapped the side of the rightmost hoop with what Katie knew was frustration at himself.

High above them, Fairfax was beginning to blame Davies for "being a complete, utter _pillock!_ Why didn't you let me get down there, you titfuck?" He only laughed.

Katie tried to block Oliver's way as he made to throw the Quaffle to his arguing Chasers. "OY!" he cried at them.

But just as he made to release the Quaffle, the crowd began to cheer and the game stilled as two blurs of green and blue darted towards a little glimmer of gold near the base of the Harpies' goals.

Gwenog fired a Bludger at Williams but he was too quick - she missed him entirely. Vanna followed suit, albeit halfheartedly.

_"YES FOLKS, THEY'VE SPOTTED THE SNITCH! IT'S ANYONE'S GAME AS CHAPMAN AND WILLIAMS RACE TO CATCH IT!"_

_"NO NICETIES HERE! WILLIAMS SHOVES CHAPMAN OUT OF THE WAY, SHE RECOVERS WITH A NICE CORKSCREW! SHE'S NOT GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT. CATCHES UP EASILY WITH WILLIAMS - ARMS OUT, BROOMS KNOCKING, WHO'S IT GONNA BE?!"_

Katie covered her mouth with both hands as the two collided hard and their brooms splayed out, throwing them both off balance as they reached their destination and rolled on the grass in a tussle. And lay still. For the first time that night, the crowd was deathly silent.

Shaky, slowly, both Seekers rose, and one of them raised their arm to display the captured Snitch.

Katie screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the crowd. They won. THEY WON! Glinda was in near hysterics as she waved the golden ball, and the crowd in green roared in approval.

_"GLINDA CHAPMAN CATCHES THE SNITCH TO END THIS HISTORIC MATCH IN ONE HOUR, THIRTEEN MINUTES! HOLYHEAD DEFEATS PUDDLEMERE UNITED 230-80! WHAT A RUSH! WE ARE BACK, FOLKS! QUIDDITCH IS BACK!"_

As the sky filled with green fireworks, the audience cheered and hugged one another, singing an old team song in harmony. This wasn't just about the Harpies' victory; no, it was about the unity they felt and shared with return of a glorious sport they'd all missed under the oppression of Voldemort.

Katie held back a sob as she hovered on her broom. She'd just played - and won - her first professional match, and she was overwhelmed by the largeness of it all. She turned to see Oliver still clutching the Quaffle and looking at her with a big grin on his face.

"You're... not upset?" she asked with a watery giggle.

"Really, Kates? You were... c'mere." He dropped the Quaffle and pulled her in for a celebratory hug. She returned it eagerly, happily sobbing into his jersey. She shouldn't have been surprised by how good he still smelled. It was just... Oliver.

"Why are you crying?" he laughed and rubbed her shoulders. She felt his chest rumble against her cheek. "You did fantastic."

"Because Quidditch. You lost," Katie wailed. "I always rooted for Puddlemere."

"Well, you won, you daftie," Oliver said. "Reckon it's the first time I'm not totally destroyed."

"Not gonna drown yourself in the showers?"

"No, but if I don't let you go, Jones might pummel me." Katie pulled away and saw her teammates in a group hug - one she was conspicuously missing from. Gwen was at the center, glaring at her and Oliver.

"Oh."

"That, or we could fall out of the sky," the Keeper shrugged. As it was, they hadn't moved from the scoring area. But he was oddly calm, at ease.

"Sorry, Captain. I'll, uh, see you later?" she gave him a small smile.

"Count on it," he grimaced a little.

Katie didn't have time to ponder his expression as she flew, apologetically, to meet her teammates and complete their hug.

"What was that, Rookie?" Jones huffed. Coach King looked on, impassive.

"I'm sorry, I -"

"Give her a break," Bruna rolled her eyes. "She did good tonight. Real good. And she deserves to hug her friend if she wants to."

"Well," the Captain brushed it off, "Tonight we're gonna celebrate! Harpies on three! ONE, TWO, THREE -"

"HARPIES!"

The team broke, cheering, and Katie looked back. Oliver had left, as had the rest of Puddlemere, save for a stoic-looking Sean Flanner. But some very important people were still waiting for her in the stands.

"POP! MUM!" she called as she flew to them. "George, Ange, I'm so glad you came!" She landed and made to embrace them.

"Katherine, dar-ling," her mother sing-songed, "You're perspiring!"

Katie laughed and hugged her first. "Katherine!" Gladys cried, but sighed and hugged her daughter back.

Ed joined his arms around the both of them and proclaimed, "I'm so proud of you, baby girl." He gamely gave her a kiss on her sweaty forehead.

"Thanks, Pop, I hope you come to every game." Katie sighed contentedly. As she turned towards her friends, she saw them pull their hands away from each other awkwardly. In the corner of her eye, anyway. She pretended not to have seen, and said, "Well? How'd it go?"

"So-so," said George nonchalantly, "Would have been more exciting if Jones had taken out _both_ Borodin's elbows. I mean, it was okay. You were pretty so-so, too."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "You did amazing, Kates. But you don't need me to tell you that."

Katie laughed and noticed the empty seat next to theirs. "Did, um, anyone take this seat?"

"Er, no. Did you invite someone else?"

She needed only to meet Angelina in the eye for her friend to understand her meaning. "Oh," Ange said. "She, uh, she didn't come."

George looked away, and Katie nodded. It would be some time, but she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed at Alicia's absence.

A field assistant came flying into their box to call Katie away.

"What?" she asked. "But it's so early yet! It's only seven!"

"Yes, Miss Bell, but your manager wants you all to get ready for the Opening Gala. I am also to pull Miss Jones and Miss Chapman from the press conference in five minutes' time. You are to be debriefed by Coach King as you prepare. The main dinner will begin, but the Harpies and Puddlemere are set to enter as the dancing begins."

"Well, what are you waiting for!" Mrs. Bell pushed her forward. "Get yourself clean, my love, and into a beautiful dress! And take pictures! With Oliver!" she winked.

"Muuuum."

"Humor your mother, baby. She's almost had a heart attack just watching you do your thing. Just... don't die in those death trap shoes, eh?"

"You men and your logic!" cried his wife. "Go, my love! We'll have dinner soon. All of us."

"Yeah, Kates!" Ange promised. "Sooner if you get us season passes!"

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe you got me to wear this monstrosity," Davies adjusted himself in the kilt he'd borrowed from Oliver. "I can't believe you own more than one! Actually, no," he held up a finger, "I can't believe you Scots wear these at all! They're itchy! And the breeze is <em>unnatural<em>. And be honest, Wood, does my butt look big in this?"

"Shut up, Davies, you lost your bet. And so did I." Oliver stood, showered and groomed, in his best kilt, before the mirror in his flat. He straightened his coat and bow tie as he ruminated on the uncanny game statistics Katie had churned out. A whopping eleven attempts at the goal, five of which had gone into the hoops and sent him into his Scottish attire. That gave him six saves against her, which accounted for Davies' similar predicament. But her performance against his Keeping was above and beyond what anyone expected of her, and that made his chest swell with deep pride. He knew, though, that he could take no credit - it was all her.

"I bet Flanner's gonna have a laugh at us now. But even I must admit my calves look extra manly in these socks, yeah? Sexxxxx."

"Beg to differ, Davies," Oliver cocked a brow, "Because Flanner only scored two goals against Geyser."

"No. Way." Roger's face cracked up with glee.

As if on cue, Sean Flanner stepped out of Oliver's bathroom. "Well?" he grimaced.

"Catch me, Wood, I've fallen in love." Davies pretended to faint onto Oliver's bed.

"Tartan becomes you," Oliver grinned at their Captain.

"Look at us," Flanner looked a bit green in the face as he inspected their reflection in the mirror. "Buncha chumps. Let's go, boys."

* * *

><p>"I'm gonna vomit," Katie said, "If you don't slow down." Miss Raul, gleefully dressed in drag, was having a field day seeing to everyone's gowns, hair and makeup. As soon as they'd arrived by Portkey, he arranged Mediwitches to tend to all injuries, tossed the team into the showers, sat everyone (including an irate Gwenog Jones) down in the Harpies' salon facility, and snapped at his assistants to get moving. He personally did Katie's hair, a process which involved a magical spinning chair that got Katie dizzier than any broom she'd ever ridden.<p>

"Honey," Miss Raul said, "It is eight o'clock. You girls are supposed to be at the venue in half an hour! Now open your mouth."

Katie did as she was told, and Miss Raul popped a candy in her mouth. "Chew. Swallow."

It tasted so familiar. _"Blueberries,_" she thought as she swallowed, and her eyes bugged out with realization. "_Wheezes!"_ She clutched her boobs in despair. "YOU DIDN'T!" she cried.

Miss Raul cackled and said, "Oh, honey. Look at mine. Not a piece of stuffing in sight! Fantastic!"

"But you're in _costume._" Katie sat back in her seat and pouted as her breasts began to grow. It was gonna be a long night.

She let Miss Raul finish her hair and put her into a fantastic dress - a deep sapphire blue halter gown of fine chiffon and satin. Its hem boasted a trail of subtle iridescent beading, and Katie gasped at its movement as she twirled around in her matching heels. Her hair cascaded in luscious brown waves down her back, and framed the diamond studs in her ears just right.

"You look gorgeous," Miss Raul pretended to wipe a tear away. "Like the midnight sea I imagined you to be dressed as."

"This hardly counts as a costume, but thank you," Katie gushed. "I didn't think I could ever look... like this."

"There was never any doubt." He handed her a black mask.

He ushered her, Vanna, and Annie into the Harpies' atrium, where her teammates waited in their evening attire. Everyone looked amazing, including Lara, Coach King in her baby blue gown, and Gwen in her black pantsuit. (There was no forcing a woman like Jones into a dress, sighed Miss Raul, which was a real pity to those like him who had to wait for special occasions to get all gussied up.)

Katie gasped at Bruna and Wilda, who looked like perfection. Bruna wore a classic black gown with the red lips to match, and with the jewels round her neck and her deep mahogany waves she looked like a silent film star. Wilda stood out in a column gown, which was simple in cut but bold in its jewel-toned, magenta color. It matched the new streak in her jet-black hair.

"How's your shoulder?" Katie asked Wilda.

"All patched up," she grimaced, sweeping her hair aside for Katie to inspect. It was as if her bruises weren't ever there. "See?"

"What are you dressed as?"

"The hottest eggplant on the planet. From the 60s."

"Cool. Hey, Bru, you look hot."

Bruna looked down at her fingers and wrung them.

"No, really!" Katie laughed.

"You three are a vision!" Miss Raul was in ecstasy. "I _must_ have a photograph. Or a whole shoot! I'm booking a day, ladies. Everyone! Masks on! Now!"

"Shall we?" Coach King rolled her eyes. The girls reached for the Portkey.

"Watch your shoes, girls!" was Miss Raul's last call before they spun away.

* * *

><p>"Alright there, Flanner?" Oliver asked his teammate. They hadn't been five minutes at the gala and Flanner was acting odd. He knew he was pretty dense, but the nervous energy stemming from Flanner was contagious. Even he felt a bit peaky, but he doubted it was for the same reason. "Is it the kilt?"<p>

"No, mate." Flanner shook his head. "Er."

Most unusual for the loquacious Chaser.

"Is it... because we lost?" Oliver tried again.

Flanner ran a hand through his coiffed hair and sighed. And as if Oliver weren't even there, he walked away, a frown disturbing his brow.

"Alright, then."

They'd been placed in an elevated waiting room of sorts as the grand dinner, attended by the who's who of Quidditch and Wizarding society, commenced in one of the fancy rooms below. He much preferred it, though: they were provided all the food the guests below were, but didn't have to sit stiffly at the banquet and make small talk. He hated small talk. And he hated the masks they were given to wear - the ball was apparently a Halloween formal affair. What did that even mean? He wasn't going to wear his mask if he could help it.

In spite of their loss, his teammates were in high spirits. Even Borodin was happy in his sling. They were already voraciously stuffing their faces, so Oliver meandered over to where the buffet table was set up and helped himself to the food.

"Sweet set-up, eh?" Davies said through a mouthful of food. "Fan-cyyy."

"Fancy as you, mate," Oliver replied, picking up some potatoes.

"Bah, don't be a killjoy. I'm determined to make this work. Here, have some Fiyah-whiskaaay!" Davies handed Oliver a little glass of Ogden's. "Here's lookin' up your kilt," he smirked, holding up his drink.

Oliver grimaced, clinking their glasses. "Aye, it's gruesome."

"Aye, it's grew some more!" Davies cackled as they knocked their alcohol back together.

Then Oliver nearly dropped his plate as a big gust of wind blew up behind his kilt. _Awkward. _Through the open balcony doors, a large group of women walked in, not a hair out of place. The Harpies had arrived.

* * *

><p>"Laraaaa," someone called shortly after they landed. As Katie adjusted her dress, she craned over Gwen's shoulder to see who it was. Philbert Deverill, Puddlemere's nutty, flamboyant manager, exchanged air kisses with their own manager.<p>

"Phil," replied Lara courteously, somberly, even, "It's been too long! How lovely to see you."

"Always a treat for the eyes, you and your girls are," he simpered, "Even after your... glorious victory over Puddlemere today. You must be pleased!"

"It was hard-won," Lara said, "Your boys played well indeed."

What had her in a mood? In the corner of her eye, Katie saw Oliver staring intently past the pair and at her. She pretended to be engrossed by the managers' conversation, feeling inexplicably shy behind her mask. She shuffled behind Gwenog Jones, and took another peek in his direction. He'd looked away, but Katie noted he looked clean and handsome (albeit a little tired) in his formal attire.

Was he wearing... a kilt? And Davies?

Her attempt at hiding had been thwarted, however, when none other than Sean Flanner (also in a kilt) showed up beside her and Bruna. Wordlessly, he nodded at her friend, and then again at the rest of the gobsmacked team. Bruna blushed furiously and grit out, "Not _now_, Sean."

But their drama was again cut short when program ushers came up to arrange them in two lines and forced them into their masks. Katie was terribly confused as she walked alongside Isadora Fairfax through a dark hallway. She looked back, but everyone's faces were hidden behind their own masks. Finally they were led out into a crowd of waiting guests, and someone announced, "Your heroes and heroines of the day, ladies and gentlemen! Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies!"

Talk about cheesy. Both teams walked down a gilded marble staircase as the people in the ballroom applauded, and orchestral music played as they reached the bottom. Then as each person partnered up to dance, they took off their masks.

"Fuckin' weirdos," sneered Fairfax beside Katie.

In an odd display, Coach King pulled Coach Nolan's mask off and and forced him to dance with her. Vanna's husband approached, gave a little bow, pulled the ribbon of her mask off, and led her to dance. Some wizards did the same to Wilda and Glinda, and Gwenog stalked off to look for a drink. Bruna had disappeared...

Katie looked around her. Now what?

"Hey," someone came up behind her. She jumped.

"Captain!" She turned around around and took him in. His face, though concealed, Her eyes traveled downward to a certain tartan article of clothing. "You look... Well. Nice costume, but it's hardly Halloween-y."

"Lost a bet against Davies so I had to wear this," Oliver grinned and looked down at his attire. "But you look... y'know, also. Happy Halloween. What are you dressed as?"

"Thanks, I guess. Miss Raul says I'm dressed as the sea? What kind of bet?" She let him reach behind her to pull off her mask.

"About you," Oliver shrugged, "One I was very happy to lose."

"Oh, really. Did Flanner lose too?" She took Oliver's mask off and put it aside.

"We all lost one bet or another. But I was the only one counting on losing."

"You were right about this, mate!" hollered Davies, arms slung around two giggling witches. He thrust his hips forward. "Ladies dig the kilt!"

"Oh, Roger!" one of them simpered as they walked away.

"At least he's enjoying."

The two laughed awkwardly.

"Sorry," Oliver said, "But have you eaten?"

As if on cue, Katie's stomach growled. "Not since lunch," she winced.

Oliver turned to a passing waiter and smoothly took his entire tray of hors d'oeuvres. "Cocktails for dinner?"

Katie grinned back and reached for a fancy biscuit. "So how have the past two weeks been?"

"You know, twice-a-day scrimmage. Gym and strat sessions, where they tried to squeeze me and Davies for everything we had on you. Fat lot of good that did."

"Sorry, this one's a wrecker." She flexed her shooting arm.

"You are. I've never seen you could fly like that. I mean... it's been a while."

"Coach King," Katie nodded. "Sorry to say she's more of a hard-ass than you were."

In the background, Katie heard her shriek, "You're stepping on my dress, you dunderhead!" presumably at Coach Nolan.

"Seems like it. You played so great, in fact, that I've written a whole page on you in my playbook."

"Ooh. Should I be scared?"

"Very. You watch, Bell."

"Well, Coach had me practicing against this ugly phantom version of you. It wasn't such an inaccurate depiction, really - his nostrils grew big, like this," Katie demonstrated, "And he was furious whenever I scored against him."

Oliver pulled a face. "Wasn't so easy having to block you today, you know that?"

"Wasn't so easy scoring either, Captain."

They watched the people dance in silence, until Katie began, "Are wizarding galas always this stuf-"

"Do you wanna -"

Stares.

"Sorry, you go first."

"No, you go first."

Oliver took a breath. "Dance with me?"

* * *

><p>"What is it that you had to put me on the spot in front of everyone earlier? Must you ruin my night so early?" Bruna asked Sean angrily. He'd pulled her away into a corner as soon as the evening had begun, to her supreme annoyance. "After the game I said I'd give you a chance to talk, <em>not<em> embarrass me."

"I promised this would be the last time, so please let me talk. Look, Bru. I've been thinking. A lot. Especially with Wood going off and wooing his own little Harpy..." he trailed off before looking at her again. "You know I'm sorry."

The Keeper folded her arms and rolled her eyes. He was so determined after cornering her post-match that she couldn't say no. And here he was repeating the same lies?

"What, because you miss having somone to toy with? 'Sorry' isn't gonna cut it when it comes to what you've hidden from me."

"It's a big thing, I know, but Beatrice... you've gotta understand, Bru. She's the biggest part of my life -"

"Don't," she started, "'_Bru'_ me. See, that's why I don't get why I owe you any sort of time, Flanner. We've been through this!"

"We haven't! You keep walking away, and I'm tired of it. What are you so afraid to hear, anyway?"

Bruna faltered, "I... don't know. That you used me? That you wanted to _keep_ using me while your _wife_ -"

"Brunhilda Geyser, I swear if you say that one more time -"

"Never _ever_ call me that! I'm not that kind of woman, Flanner, and I'm not going to be made a fool of by you -"

"If you'd just _listen!_" He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her silent. She allowed her eyes to close for a moment before shoving him off.

"You pig!" she cried.

"Bruna. Please. Beatrice... she isn't my wife, okay? I've been trying to tell you. She's..." he released a pent-up sigh, "She's my daughter."

* * *

><p>"Ow," Katie laughed as Oliver stepped on her foot for the nth time. "You'd think the best Keeper in the League would be more graceful on his feet."<p>

"It's not my natural element, okay? Don't judge."

"Me neither." She laughed as he attempted to spin her, only to bump into a disapproving matron nearby. "We suck at this."

"Yeah? Well. My mother said learning how to dance was never a hopeless cause."

"Until she saw you dance." Katie wondered that she'd never asked him about being Pureblood - he acted so differently from the other high society kids even if he had to do the same snooty things they did every year over the summer.

"_Because_ she saw me dance. I did dismally at lessons." Oliver chuckled. "She felt I needed some encouragement."

"That's right, til you got your hands on a broom."

"My poor mum."

"What about mine? She nearly had a heart attack today."

"Excuse me," someone interrupted, "Mind if I cut in?"

Oliver had to stifle an indignant cry when he looked up to see Brevis Birch inspecting them with amusement. "As a matter of fact," he said in a clipped tone, "I do."

"Now, now, boy, we're at a party. The lady would not object to a more... graceful partner?" Birch turned to Katie, who was sporting a scowl identical to Oliver's. She wasn't about to back down.

"No, Captain, it's okay. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" She shot him a meaningful look.

Oliver reluctantly let her go, glaring daggers at Birch. "I'll wait for you by the bar," he told Katie.

"Nice skirt," Birch called after him. When Oliver was far enough away, he turned to Katie and smiled. "I'm sorry, madam, after our first meeting it occurred to me that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

"You think?"

He ignored her and held out his hand. Katie took it reluctantly, and he led her back into the dance. "You can call me Brevis."

"Sure. Katie. What are you dressed as?" She looked his silver robes up and down. "A shark?"

Birch tutted. "So much hostility in one so young. You're much prettier when you smile." He bared his pearly whites, but his expression, which Katie used to find quite handsome, only gave her goosebumps.

"I watched the match earlier, you know," he continued. "You were a standout."

"Er, thanks."

"I suppose you have your own coaching staff to thank, if not Wood's lackluster keeping, for your performance."

"Oliver Keeps more than just fine."

"He performed far below his own statistics last season."

"It was the first game of _this_ season."

"Hey, hey. I'm not here to argue. I just wanted to compliment you on your playing."

Silence.

Birch continued, "It's only a shame you couldn't be playing with for a champion team like the 'Nados."

"I'm quite happy with my team," Katie countered. "There's nothing about my choice that I regret."

"Well, you're young, and the season has really just begun. We'll see. But I haven't given up on you just yet, Miss Bell. I have a good feeling that you'll soon be... _persuaded_ that signing to the Tornados would be the best thing for your career."

Katie dropped his hands and stopped pretending to dance. "Mr. Birch, I have to thank you for your offer - if that's what it was. And not to sound rude, but I'm really not interested."

He only laughed and reached for two glasses of champagne from Merwyn Finwick, who, to Katie's surprise, was sleepily standing right next to them. Birch offered her a flute. "You see, Miss Bell, there's more to the game of Quidditch than what happens on the pitch. Every team has its own secrets... Mine, Wood's, yours... All I'm saying is, I have the key to success beyond your wildest imagination. All you need to do is ask. Cheers."

Touching his glass to hers, he sneered, smacked the snoozing Finwick sharply on the chest and walked away.

* * *

><p>"Stare any harder, Wood, and you might burn a hole in his head."<p>

Oliver stopped glaring at Birch for a moment and faced a sarcastic Gwenog Jones, who held two glasses of Firewhiskey in her hands. She offered Oliver the untouched one, which he gratefully accepted.

"Good game, Jones," he took a sip, "You nearly decapitated me on maybe four different occasions."

"Less than the average," she chuckled darkly as they quickly lapsed into an awkward silence.

"So, er."

"Birch is trying to pirate my rookie." Gwen went straight to the point, nodding in Katie's direction.

Oliver felt there was no point in denying it. "They tried recruiting her earlier, but she'd already signed with you. Good thing, too."

"I think she's a smart girl," Gwen said. "And if I'm right, she's not going to jump ship."

"She won't," Oliver nodded. "I hate piracy. It screws everyone over."

"Under-the-table deals - rarely do we have anything to do with them. It's our damn management. But that pillock Birch owns his own bloody team, so he thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants. Damn straight he'll get it from me if he tries to take my team."

"Get in line," Oliver attempted a joke. Gwenog shot him a withering look.

"So. You and the rookie, then."

Oliver's ears went pink as he shrugged. "We were teammates. Back at Hogwarts."

"I heard. Y'know, I didn't think it was possible," said Gwen, "But that girl is more stubborn than me. She's just insubordinate!"

"She'll do what she feels is right. But she named her owl after you, you know," Oliver said. "She adores you."

"And she infuriates me," Gwen laughed, which alarmed Oliver a little. "Between you and me, when she's not acting like my number one fan, she's either ignoring my orders, or trying to prove a point. Drives me mad, like Wilds, you know? She'd better thank Merlin that she's a damn good Chaser."

"Griffiths?" Oliver asked, distracted by the sight of Katie making her way towards them. Thank Merlin. "Uhhh. Haven't seen her, Jones. Sorry."

"Captain!" Katie called as she neared. Both Oliver and Gwenog looked up at her. "Oh, er. I meant, uh, Oliver. Sorry. Gwen."

The Beater shrugged coolly and continued nursing her glass.

"What did he want, Kates?" Oliver asked, reaching for her. "Are you alright?"

Katie nodded. "I took care of it. I'm just gonna use the loo, be right back."

"If Bell respects me as much as you say," pondered Jones, amused, "And if she really thinks me higher than her, then why is it that _you're_ the one she calls 'Captain'?"

* * *

><p>"I... You have a daughter." Bruna looked at the floor.<p>

"She's going to turn five in December."

"That's a very big thing to keep from me, Sean."

"I wanted to tell you, but when you were ready. I'm sorry."

"Wouldn't it have been better to tell me straight up? I -"

"Look. A lot of things were holding me back. You were this gorgeous girl I wanted to get to know and I -"

"You hid this fundamental fact from me, and why? Because I was your plaything on the weekends while your mother babysat? Because I couldn't _possibly_ want more from you? Or maybe it was the other way round." The shock was quickly turning back to anger.

"Couldn't it just have been that I _did_ want to get to know you better? I want my child to have a mother... And I was hoping... maybe it would be you. I didn't want you to freak out and run. Which you did, of course, but I don't blame you. This is all my fault." Sean put a hand in the pocket of his kilt and rubbed the other nervously across his face. "I'm sorry. I tried to tell you -"

"Where is her mother?"

Sean shook his head. "It was a one night type of thing, Bru. I was young, and stupid, and wasted... There were quite a few of those nights, to be honest."

Bruna bristled at his admission, but allowed him to continue.

"One night I came home from practice and there was a little bundle on my doorstep. She - Beatrice was in the basket, just a few days old, and there was only a little note pinned onto her blanket. It had her birthdate, and it said, 'Beatrice - yours.' A paternity test confirmed as much."

"And you kept her?"

"Of course."

"But... why is she such a secret?"

"You know our PR - the way they harp on marketability is toxic. I want to tell the world my Beatrice exists, but I can't lest I 'damage my brand'." He finished with air quotes, disgust on his face.

"The same way we couldn't talk about... you know, _this_?" Bruna gestured between them, daring to look him in the eye.

"Almost, but not quite. There would have been problems on my end, and your end, too." He cracked her a weak smile. "Bru..."

"What do you want from me, Sean?"

"What do I want? I..."

* * *

><p>"Shh! Rookie! Come here!" An arm grabbed Katie as she made her way towards the hall.<p>

"Ow! Wilds? Are you drunk already?"

"Of course not. Don't go over there, I've been eavesdropping like fuckin' Rita Skeeter. Bru and Flanner!"

"Oooh. I thought you were above all that superficial rot," Katie teased. But she leaned over the pillar Wilda hid behind and saw none other than their Keeper, engrossed in deep conversation with the Puddlemere Captain.

"Quiet, you." Wilda snatched Katie's flute of champagne. "This is going to be juicy in the morning." She downed the contents of the glass and gimaced. "Ugh, this stuff is stronger than usual, huh?"

"Interesting. Alright, remind me to ambush Bru tomorrow. I just _really_ need to use the loo."

Katie found a roundabout way to her destination and hurried inside. It was only when she'd exited her cubicle to wash her hands that she noticed she had company. "Alicia?"

"Hey Katie, I saw you rush in so I didn't -" Alicia was cut off when Katie gave her a big hug.

"You didn't watch my game."

"I did. But I was in the media box. Same reason I'm here, actually. Work." She apologetically waved her quill and paper.

"That's so great!" Katie pulled back and took her in. Alicia wore a pretty, champagne-colored gown, but she looked rather tired. "Well, not that you're working at a party. That's amazing though!"

"It's a pretty big deal. I've already sent my write-up on your game to the _Prophet._"

"So this freelance thing is bigger than you let on, huh?" Katie teased.

"Maybe. Hey, Kates, you haven't seen Brevis Birch anywhere, have you?"

Katie's face darkened. "Why? He's bad news."

"It's just... something. I'm actually working here, y'know?" Alicia gave a laugh. "Can't really talk much, and I know I can get your scoop anytime."

"But I just saw you! And we're at a ball!"

"Katie."

"Fine. I'll tell you if you agree to lunch next week. And no running out!"

Alicia sighed. "Okay, I promise. Sneaky of you to try to sit me with, you know. Them."

Katie shrugged. "I just thought -"

"It's alright. Look, I'll write, okay?"

"Okay. Birch is around the dance floor. Please don't talk to him!"

The girls exchanged hugs. "Thanks. I'll see you soon, Katie."

"That better be a promise."

* * *

><p>"Olliiiiiiiieeeee.. Didn't think I'd run into <em>you<em> here."

Oliver looked to the heavens, begging for the patience he knew he'd need. "Amber," he greeted as a red lacquered fingernail traced his ear. "It _is_ a Quidditch event."

"Oh," she tittered, "I get so invited to _so_ many galas these days. I don't even know which one I'm attending anymore! It's so difficult."

Oliver sighed. "I can imagine." The busty blonde rolled her body around his until they were chest to chest. "Amber, please."

"I've missed you, Ollieee," she picked on the buttons on his shirt and fluttered her false eyelashes up at him. "If only your little publicity people didn't ask us to break up."

He examined her crimson pout with ill-disguised distaste as he tried to edge away. "Amber. We were never going to work out."

The socialite giggled, causing her flashy, electric blue gown to break out into sparkles. "Don't you love this dress?" she ignored him completely. "It suits your... skirt."

"It's a kilt."

"Whatever. Ollie, you've always had a stupid broom up your -"

"Hey Ol!" Katie walked up next to him. Oliver worriedly examined her face as she took in the scene. With Amber snuggled up close to him, it looked bad. Real bad.

"And who's this?" Amber raised a blonde eyebrow, appraising Katie from head to toe.

"Amber, this is Katie," Oliver said. "She's my -"

"I'm his date," Katie supplied with a smile. "C'mon Ol, you owe me a drink." She tugged him out of the affronted socialite's grasp and led him away.

"Thanks," Oliver said once they were in the clear. They were alone on a long balcony, outside the huge double doors of the ballroom. He looked down at their hands, which had nearly become interlaced over the course of their walk. Katie followed his gaze and pulled her fingers away, to his disappointment. "Amber... She can be a little... That is to say she's..."

"Forget it, Ol," Katie laughed. "I don't think I wanna know. In any case, she looks busy."

They looked back to where Oliver had been before - Roger Davies had somehow trapped his ex-girlfriend in a flirtatious armhold. Amber didn't look so happy.

Katie considered telling Oliver that she had felt some jealousy flare up when she'd seen him with Amber, but thought better of it. She knew from his face that he wasn't enjoying the company. Then she considered asking him how they broke up, but she scrapped the idea of ex-talk altogether. It's not like she had the right or anything, she justified in her head.

"I guess." Oliver finally let out a breath. "I hate balls."

"Any balls that aren't for Quidditch, eh? Well, let me distract you." Katie told him everything that had gone down - the Birch encounter, the Flanner thing, then about her seeing Alicia.

"Save for Alicia it seems we keep getting stuck with unsavory folk," Oliver said, putting his hands in his pockets. They'd gotten Katie a fresh drink and had walked out onto the foyer.

"Are all fancy parties this way?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he watched, mesmerized, as her dress, blue like Amber's, but simple and elegant, fluttered in the breeze. And then his eyes widened as the cold wind blew up his kilt. "I'll never get used to this," he confessed as she laughed at his discomfort.

"It suits you, though." She reached up and straightened his tie. "I think you look dashing."

"You're the first after my mum to say that."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Katie looked over at him - had he really been standing so close? The breeze was blowing his scent in her direction - it was intoxicating. It smelled like soap, it smelled so... him.

"Kates... Why do you call me 'Captain'?" he interrupted her thoughts.

"I do? Oh, yeah," she blinked.

"Jones pointed it out. Never really noticed it."

Katie cocked her head. "Me neither, actually."

"What... do you mean by it?" He looked at her as they leaned over the balcony railing. Was he nervous? Katie wasn't sure.

"I mean... Captain. You're my captain, right? I've called you that for years."

"But, see, I'm not - we're not teammates anymore. George and Ange just call me Oliver."

"Does it bother you?"

He shrugged. "Jones just pointed out that 'Captain' is a very hierarchical term."

"Is that what this is about." Katie broke into a grin. "She's jealous because I don't call her that."

"And shouldn't you?"

Katie shrugged. "It feels forced. Calling you 'Captain' doesn't. Call it... a term of endearment. It's not the same, but it's kind of like how you're the only one that really calls me 'Kates'. Davies tried. It was utterly annoying."

"Kates." Oliver grinned.

"Yeah?"

"Kates."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" she poked him in the ribs, eliciting a startled laugh.

"Hey!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her in easily for a hug. When they settled, she snaked her arms into his coat and round his back, and murmured, "I missed you." And she did. The past couple of weeks had been ridiculously tough. And without Oliver to confide in, it had been doubly trying.

Oliver opened his mouth as if to say something, changed his mind, and pulled her closer. She welcomed his warmth, burrowing her face into his chest. "I missed you too, Kates," he confessed.

Their faces were so close they could feel each other's breaths.

"So, Ol," Katie joked to ease the tension, "What else happens at these balls besides the snooty dancing and the fancy drinks?"

"Well they've turned the lights down - I hear Celestina Warbeck's performing. And the Warehouse Wolves."

"I could stand to miss it."

"But you love Celestina Warbeck. We could meet her."

Katie pretended to think. "But I'm still quite hungry, you see."

He raised a brow back at her. "I suppose we could grab a bite."

They broke apart, however, when a hysterical Wilda barged out onto the balcony, followed by a furious Gwenog. Neither Harpy seemed to notice Katie and Oliver.

"What was that about?" Gwen yelled.

"Just get off my back!"

"Seriously? Seriously, Wilds? Brevis fucking Birch." Gwen reached out to grab her arm.

"Oh, _what_. He's hot and I've had something to drink! Don't touch me -"

"You were sharing the bastard with Isadora Fairfax, too, in case you didn't notice. You're acting like a fucking slag."

Oliver gasped. "I need to find Fairfax," he whispered to Katie. "I won't leave her with Birch."

Katie nodded and felt him leave, but stood glued, horrified, to the spot. How much did Wilda have to drink? She seemed perfectly fine earlier!

"We were just having some fun!" screamed Wilda, tottering, "You don't fucking own me, Jones! How many times do I have to tell you -"

"Well I'm fucking sorry if I'm looking out for your safety? Your reputation?"

"Damn my reputation," spat Wilda, "If I'm ever seen with the likes you _you_. This is all for _your_ ego, you stupid cow."

The Chaser marched off in the opposite direction and fumbled for her wand.

"Don't act like that! It's more than that and you know it is! Wilda! Wilda!"

But Wilda had found her wand and drunkenly Apparated away. Gwenog reached out but caught only air. Roaring, the Beater took out her own wand and likewise disappeared.

"Circe." Katie stared at where her teammates stood seconds ago. She knew Gwenog was strongly against interaction with other men, but what was that about? And why did the name Brevis Birch keep following her tonight? She shivered and realized she was alone in the cold.

As she turned to go back inside, she saw Oliver marching back to her. "Dora's gone," he frowned. "They told me she left... with Birch."

"Oh," Katie blinked. "What now?"

"It's none of my business," Oliver said. "But I just want her to be safe."

"She's a big girl, I'm sure she'll be fine," Katie tried to reassure him. But after witnessing that blowup, she didn't believe herself.

Oliver shook his head, and Katie saw just how tired he really looked. She felt it, too - after the game, and dealing with everyone she'd encountered that evening, she needed a break.

"Ol?" she asked. "You're exhausted. There's nothing we can do here. Maybe we should go. But not to my place - there's gonna be a war going on there for sure."

The Keeper searched her face before finally nodding. "You're right."

Without questioning him, she let him take her hand and Apparate them away.

He didn't let go when they landed, but instead gently led her through the Puddlemere lobby and up into his flat. It was as comforting as Katie remembered, and when Oliver magically started a blaze in his fireplace, she automatically relaxed.

But she stood there rather awkwardly as he went around straightening things before finally disappearing into his room. Before she could call out, he returned bearing a bundle of his clothes and a towel.

"Here," he offered them to her sheepishly. "You can't get comfy in that dress, nice as it is. You can use my bathroom."

She took them gratefully and proceeded to clean up, washing her face and tying up her hair. She put his clothes on - he'd given her a pair of boxers and one of his old, brown Puddlemere shirts. It stopped high on her thighs, but she couldn't help but think it fit perfectly. She stuck her nose in the fabric.

"You alright, Kates? Need anything?" Oliver called.

"Um," she blushed. "A toothbrush?"

He was happy to provide her one, and she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later feeling fresh, but shy.

She noticed Oliver had already changed. Katie thought he looked even better in his white V-neck tee and flannel pants. He looked over at her from his couch and cocked his head. "C'mere."

Katie suppressed a grin and half-ran to cuddle under his outstretched arm. He offered her a bowl of cereal and milk, "Sorry, Kates. This is the best I had on such short notice."

"Cereal dinner. How dull," she laughed, thanking him.

"Like today, hmm?" Oliver mused. "Dull, I mean."

"_So_ dull," Katie replied. "I mean... I _only_ won my first game."

"Birch _only_ caused a huge mess at the gala."

"Bruna _only_ had a possibly life-changing talk with Sean Flanner -"

"_WHAT."_

"Oh yeah," Katie frowned into her bowl. "How did I forget about that?"

"So he's done it. He's told her about Beatrice."

"Oh, please. Bru's not stupid, she knows he's _married._"

"Married?" Oliver was incredulous. "Kates... Beatrice is his _daughter._"

She nearly spat out her cereal. "NO."

"Is that what Geyser thought? That explains a lot."

"This changes things."

"No doubt it will."

Oliver let Katie rant about the situation, laughing at her comical expressions as she splish-splashed her cereal and yelled about the irony.

"And then imagine," Katie ended, "If she finally decides just to go out with him again!" She released a sigh.

"Well," Oliver reasoned, his heart suddenly hammering, "They've known each other for some time."

"Yeah?"

"And now Flanner's come clean about what he's been dying for her to know."

"Beatrice?"

"Mmhmm, but more than that."

"You mean that he loves her?"

"He has, for a while."

Katie nodded, but stayed silent. Their friends' situation was far too similar to hers for her to say anything. At least, without fear of discovery. Suddenly she was hyperaware of their proximity. The air felt turbid with tension. "Ol," she finally began, her voice not over a whisper. "Is this a good idea?"

"Hmm?" he didn't hear her. His fingers lazily stroked her calves, which were perched haphazardly on his legs. His eyes focused on her lips, and maybe it was the drinks he'd had, but he was feeling bold. He leaned in til his face was mere inches from hers. "You should always wear my clothes."

"I..." Oh, hell. She wanted this. But... "Well!" she cried, breaking the mood. Oliver pulled away, not understanding. The moment when comprehension swept over his handsome features was the same one that crushed Katie.

"Sorry," he said, getting up quickly. "Must have had, uh, too much to drink. I'd better. Er."

"No, wait!" Katie nearly shouted, mentally smacking herself over the head. "That's not what I meant. Stay. Please."

Embarrassment and uncertainty was etched all over Oliver's face as he searched her face. Finally he shook his head. "We both could use some rest. Here, take my bed." He pulled her up and led him to his room. Upon making sure she was tucked in and comfy, he said, "Good night, Kates."

Katie didn't dare question him. He was being a gentleman, as he always was. She'd fix it in the morning. "Good night, Captain," she sighed as he turned out the lights and walked away.

What had she done?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Uh ohhhh! Sorry to cockblock! Can't explain myself very well there, but I can just say I've had a ton of fun writing this chapter. Hands up, who guessed Beatrice right?**

**Extra nugget: the Amber I picture in my head is Kate Upton. She wasn't really necessary, but I threw her in anyway. Just for fun.**

**Review if you liked this chapter!**

**Review if you hated it! (But please be nice?)**

**Review if you think Puddlemere in kilts is sexy!**

**Review if you wanna know what the hell happened with Bruna and Sean!**

**Review if you think Katie did the wrong, wrong thing!**

**Review if you wanna know what comes next!**

**As always, thanks for reading :) Love you guys!**


	18. Time for Discussion

**A/N: I'm back! After you read this chapter, I'd like to request that you read the little note I've left at the end. It's really, really important to me :)**

**This goes out to ceubren, who made an account just to leave me a signed review. Hi to all my faithful reviewers, particularly my first-time reviewers, and thank you all! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18 - Time for Discussion<strong>

Kaite woke up with a headache. That had been one heck of a dream. First there was Quidditch, and then dresses, and a party... Birch was causing trouble, and Alicia was in it, and Wilda and Gwen were mad at one another... and the worst was when Oliver almost kissed her, and then dismissed her...

_"Wait_."

She sat up in her bed, disoriented. Except it wasn't her bed at all - it was Oliver's. Looking around, she saw Oliver's things: his trophies, his photographs. She looked down at her clothes, which weren't hers at all, but Oliver's.

She exhaled loudly, unsure of how to feel. This could not be happening. She'd hesitated when Oliver leaned in (nah, he probably wasn't going to. She just imagined it, right?) and he'd backed off completely. And when Oliver left her to sleep in his bed, she didn't dare object. Then she'd tormented herself over what to do until fatigue set in and finally knocked her out.

A quick glance at the clock informed her it was early: seven in the morning. The plus side was that no one would be looking for her back at the Harpies complex because they had the rest of the week off. And everything taken into account, she was probably the least of her teammates' concerns...

Getting out of bed, she wondered if Oliver was up, as well. She stepped into the bathroom, but saw no indication that he had been there that morning. He was always impossibly neat. After quickly freshening up, she walked over to his bedroom door and turned the knob.

"Ol?" she called tentatively, voice hoarse. "You up?"

No one answered.

Katie walked over to his sofa, only to find his blanket neatly folded over the pillow he'd used. Had he left?

She checked his study, turned into his kitchen and dining room - Oliver was nowhere to be found. But on the table, he'd left her a steaming plate of bacon, bangers and mash for breakfast. Beside it floated a note, and a familiar-looking fluffy stress ball.

_Dear Katie,_

_Gone out for a run, and to check up on Fairfax. Didn't want to wake you, so I left you some breakfast. Hope the Warming Charm hasn't worn off. I've also asked Security to modify the Portkey you gave me last time. That's for in case you wanted to go home. I mean, you don't have to, but I'd understand._

_And I'm sorry. About last night._

_Oliver_

Katie wanted to pull her hair out. Just the address was enough for her to know he was hurt, or at least upset - he'd called her Katie. And this - he actually acknowledged _something_ happened last night. Her heart thudded hard. So it wasn't in her head! But why was he apologizing? Last night was... "Well," she breathed.

And here he was, giving her an out. Typical Oliver. She picked at her food miserably. What was even happening?

Katie let out a groan, only to shut up promptly when she heard the front door open. She froze. She heard footsteps - light, long, deliberate - make their way to the bedroom. The footsteps stopped. A sigh, and the closing of a door. A few seconds later, she heard the shower run.

Oliver was home. A fresh wave of panic came over Katie, and the Portkey beside her never looked so tempting. It would be so easy to just disappear.

_"NO,"_ she admonished herself, clutching the table. _"Are you a Gryffindor or a flobberworm?" _She grabbed her glass of orange juice and downed it.

She didn't know how long she sat there trying to think of something to say. Her mind was shooting blanks. So engrossed was she in her non-thoughts that she didn't notice the sound of clothes rustling, of a door opening, and of bare feet making their way to where she sat.

* * *

><p>Really, he shouldn't have been disappointed. Oliver ran a hand through his sweaty hair as he made his way to the bathroom. His bed was empty and unmade, and no one was in his living room. Katie had left, and he couldn't blame her.<p>

He'd woken up feeling like a sorry sod that morning. After making breakfast, he did some admin duties and took his daily run through the compound's park to clear his head. It was no use at first. He hadn't even had much to drink, yet his memories of the events of the night previous were blurry enough that he couldn't tell if he'd acted out of line, or if he'd misread Katie's signals. He thought everything was going well, but then again maybe his fatigue, or his low tolerance to alcohol, had clouded his judgment.

Earlier when he had collected Katie's Portkey, Security informed him that he was alone on the compound. Very strange. But it _was_ a free day, so he supposed his teammates, none of whom were ever known for their tame lifestyles, had milked the night to the fullest. Even Coach Nolan hadn't reported to work. While Oliver was concerned about Fairfax, and resolved to find her within the day, he admitted to himself that felt particularly envious of Flanner. While he couldn't guess how his teammate's conversation with Geyser went, at least the man finally told her everything like he'd meant to for so long. No fear.

It was then that clarity came by him. As his feet hit the pavement to the pace of his heartbeat, he knew what it was he ought to have done. He stopped in his tracks and ran back to his building.

Oliver let his mind rest as he stood in the cool spray of the shower. It would do no good to worry. A good scrub and a shave later, he padded into his bedroom and got dressed. He set about finding his playbook and some writing tools, and made his way to the kitchen.

And stopped in his tracks.

It was only after doing a double-take that he realized he wasn't alone.

* * *

><p>"Kates."<p>

Katie shook her head and looked up. After a pregnant pause, she replied, "Hi."

"I was..." Oliver looked dumbfounded for a second. "I thought you'd gone home."

"Oh! Um, nope!" she let out a nervous giggle. "Th-thanks for, you know, letting me stay. And for breakfast."

Oliver nodded. "Of course." His expression suddenly determined, he put his things down took a step towards her. And then another.

"I mean, I just woke up. Uh, no rush, I mean... it's a free day for us, I don't know about you, but, uh, wha- what are you doing?"

He stopped before her and pulled her out of her seat, looking down into her eyes. "Something I should have done a very long time ago."

But before he could take her face into his hands, she gasped, whirled away and vanished.

* * *

><p>"Bugger it all to <em>hell<em>," Katie groaned when she landed, arse first, on her porch. "Not again." A few feet away lay the offending Portkey, which she'd elbowed by accident at the worst moment possible. She glared at it accusingly.

Gathering all her will, she got up and walked into her bungalow. She hurriedly grabbed her quill and her playbook, which she'd hidden for a fortnight, and struggled with what to write.

_Ol,_ she began. Her palms were sweaty as she wrestled with her pride and her nerves.

She finally penned, _I didn't mean to touch that Portkey._

That was all her so-called Gryffindor courage could handle, so she promptly shut the book and shoved it under her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut. She screamed into the pillow and sighed resignedly. There was nothing she could do now but wait.

Katie had barely been home five minutes when Wilda came marching by.

"You," the Chaser pointed through the window. "Come with me."

"Uh," Katie called after her. "Rude?" Wilda only threw her hands in the air and kept walking. She wasn't one to be messed with, and after what Katie had witnessed the night previous, it seemed going along with it was a better idea. So she followed Wilda out of her home barefoot until they arrived at Bruna's porch. Wilda unceremoniously flung the door open and entered.

"Wilds," Katie called exasperatedly, but it was useless. Sighing, she, too, went inside.

Wilda had walked straight into Bruna's bedroom, and proceeded to shake her awake. "Geyser. Get up."

"Hnnngh. What are you doing here?" the Keeper croaked.

"Tsk. Bru. You've got some talking to do." Wilda waggled her brows at Katie.

"Can we do this later?" Bruna begged. "I've barely just started sleeping."

"Tough," Wilda snapped. "Now move it!"

"No."

"Now."

"_NO._"

"Brunhilda Geys-"

"_WHO_ told you to call me that." Bruna sat up in bed, crankily glaring at Wilda, and then at Katie.

"Your name is _Brunhilda_?" Katie teased, eliciting some German swear words from the Keeper's mouth.

Unfazed, Wilda replied, "I may have overheard a few things. And now you're gonna get your ass out of bed and we're gonna have a nice brunch."

Bruna scowled. "But you _hate _brunch."

"Whatever. Late breakfast. I've already told the house elves." Wilda stared at her, daring her to defy her wishes.

Yawning, Bruna threw her legs over the side of the bed. "Fine. Fine!" She stomped out of her room and into her living space. Katie loved Bruna's home - it was all shades of cream and white, with accent walls in lavender and jade. She had the most perfect breakfast nook - a birch wood table with matching chairs - overlooking the lake, and live plants and flowers in every corner. If Katie's home was DIY pretty, Bruna's looked like it came straight out of a posh Muggle home decorating publication.

They sat at the table, and within seconds, house elves were pouring them coffee and setting the table.

"Well?" Bruna sipped her espresso tiredly.

"Don't 'well' me," smirked Wilda, "What's the dirt on Flanner?"

Bruna rolled her eyes. "Don't act like you don't already know. If you caught him using my real name, what else wouldn't you have heard?"

Wilda shrugged. "Good point. What happened after the whole baby confession bit?"

The Keeper gawked at her, then at Katie, who only shrugged apologetically. Then Bruna sighed, "He, uh. He wants me to meet her. Beatrice."

"And?"

"And... Merlin, it's too early for this." She shot Wilda an exasperated glance, but the woman clearly wasn't taking no for an answer. Then she took a better look Katie. "Since I figure this is the Spanish Inquisition, I might as well ask _you_ why you're wearing that Puddlemere shirt. And - oh, my, my. Whose boxers might those be?"

Katie blushed to her roots under her teammates' scrutinizing gazes. "Hey. I just crashed at his place," Katie explained flatly. "I didn't have anything to change into."

"His? Wood's?" demanded Wilda, who then declared then that a large spill session was in order. The house elves marched in bearing three large bowls of vanilla ice cream.

"Thanks, Bootsy," Katie mumbled to one of them, who stood in awe of Bruna before her fellow elf pushed her away.

"You call this breakfast?" Bruna made a face.

"Of champions," Wilda replied. "Now who goes first?"

Bruna and Katie eyed each other expectantly. Finally the Keeper said, "How about you, Wilds? You caused quite a ruckus last night. Besides, this was _your_ idea."

Wilda stared them down, but neither girl made a move to start talking. "Fine," she bit out. "So I snogged Brevis Birch. And maybe Fairfax, too. Just a little."

"_Fairfax_?" Bruna gaped.

"Not a big deal," Wilda rolled her eyes. "So don't look at me like that. Merlin knows I got enough of this from Jones. Bloody _cow_."

Katie shook her head. "Were you... alright? I mean, you weren't... He didn't -"

"No, no, no!" Wilda shouted defensively. "I was perfectly _fine_. Can't a girl just have some fun? _Circe_."

Katie tried, "Why did Gwen flip out?"

"Oh, no," Bruna pouted. "Gwen saw?" Wilda regarded Katie warily.

"Sorry," Katie said, and shared what exactly she'd seen.

"The problem with Jones is that she thinks she owns me and the rest of this bleeding team. She doesn't. Period." Wilda shoveled a big spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

Bruna opened her mouth as if to say something, then promptly shut it.

Katie asked, "Would you know where Fairfax went?"

"No."

"Er, Oliver said she left with Birch."

"...Wood? See, what's going on there, Rookie? That's far more interesting to me."

"Well," Katie hesitated, "Nothing." She'd messed everything up, that's what.

Her teammates raised their brows at her. "Right."

"Look, I was only asking because Oliver was worried about her. Birch isn't a good guy, and -"

"A bad boy," Wilda smirked. "Just the way I like 'em. Tell Wood not to get his jock strap in a twist."

"He'd just wanna make sure she was safe."

"What a gentleman," chimed Bruna delicately.

"Tsk. See, what's with you two and these nice guys anyway? They're so _boring_. Like this ice cream. Vanilla."

"Wilds. Being a good guy doesn't equate to being boring," Bruna defended. "And I believed Sean was a prick before last night. Actually, scratch that, he's _still _a prick for not telling me. Having a child doesn't make him Mr. Perfect. In fact, it's far from ideal."

"But it screams 'stability'."

"If he were married, yeah. But in spite of the circumstances... he's the one guy that just _got_ me, you know? Don't you want that, Wilda?"

"Ha," Wilda scoffed. "I'm not gonna be chained down, not when I'm having this much fun. Hey Bell, whatever's going on there, I say call that shit off. Both of you."

"Okay, it's not good to be angry in the morning," Bruna held her hands up diplomatically. "Bottom line, I told Sean... I'd give him a shot."

"You will?" Katie beamed.

"Yeah. We'll go out, and if it feels right... I'll meet his, uh, Beatrice."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm trying not to be," Bruna admitted. "She's his child. She _should_ be his priority."

Wilda shook her head. "Fine, I'll play nice. To think you used to deny even liking the bastard."

Bruna poked at her food. "I could never admit it, but... I really missed him. Even when I thought he was married I still had these... _feelings,_ because there wasn't any closure. I'd dated other guys, of course, but I'd compare them to him... Sorry, I'm rubbish at this."

"Oliver says he's a great guy," Katie supplied.

"Well," Bruna smiled shyly, "In spite of everything, I think he is. We'll see."

"Well then I guess I'm glad you _reconciled_ last night." Wilda grinned wickedly.

"He brought me home. We talked til the sun came up... Although it wasn't exactly peaceful, thanks to your and Gwen's screamfest."

Wilda's face soured. "Don't ruin my breakfast. You, rookie?"

Katie shook her head. Not now.

"Nothing? Booooring."

Katie might have argued that Wilda hardly told them anything either, but she decided against it. She realized both she and Wilda probably needed the distraction, so she let the Chaser continue grilling their hapless Keeper.

All stories exhausted, Katie reluctantly left Bruna's that afternoon and went on a run. Then she took a cold shower. A long one. After which she fluffed her pillows. And arranged her regrettably small book shelf. And brushed her hair. And then she told Bootsy what she might have for dinner. Having run out of useless things to do, she sat down to pen a letter to the only person who would probably understand her inner turmoil.

_Dear Alicia,_

_Sorry I didn't get to say goodbye last night, but I hope you had as great a time as I did at the party. I have so much to tell you. The Leaky, 8pm tomorrow? Please?_

_Katie_

She tied it to Gwenog the owl's leg and let her go. Having run out of things to do, she gathered her nerve and reached for the playbook. Was it dread she felt? Or hope? She couldn't even tell. She opened it to the bookmarked page.

_Ol,_

_I didn't mean to touch that Portkey._

Nothing followed. Katie winced. Whether or not Oliver had seen the note, one thing was certain: she was an idiot. She sullenly turned the page back, expecting to find their last correspondence. Instead she found exhaustive run-down of yesterday's game, which Oliver had spoken of but she'd forgotten.

She read through Oliver's commentary, relishing his handwriting as she'd missed it. Her eyes slowed over the portion of text he'd written about her. It wasn't the page he'd boasted of at all, but it gleamed with the promise of... more? Or was she hoping again?

_BELL. 50 points / 11 attempts._

_Hi Kates, if you're reading through this prattle, and if you don't mind, I'd much rather discuss your stats face-to-face. Otherwise we'd have a full novel on our hands. Maybe later, at the gala. You were stupendous, and your numbers got me off to my worst statistical start in my career. Well-deserved win. It seems you've got me all figured out! :-)_

Katie snorted. "Hardly." But a frisson of something went up and down her arm and she kind of hated herself for it. She turned the page back to her sad little note, trying hard not to mope. And then she saw it. The beginnings of his scrawl.

_You there, Kates?_

She scrambled for a quill.

_Yes! _she wrote unsteadily. She waited a minute, two, for a reply, but none came. Her heart, which dared to hope, felt itself falling.

Then a knock came on her door. She looked up, confused, before heading to open it. Standing before her was none other than Oliver, looking shy but just as determined as he did that morning.

"Ol," she began. "I-"

He cut her off. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

And then he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Katie's eyes widened before she allowed herself to melt into him. He felt so new, yet familiar at the same time. The pressure of his lips - warm, dry, and soft - on hers was all it took to erase her current worries. He pulled away to gauge her reaction.

"Wow," he began, only to have her tug back at his robes and kiss him more thoroughly, closing the space between them. They maneuvered their bodies smoothly inside the house as his lips caressed hers, and in that moment she felt nothing but sheer happiness. A thrill ran through her body as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. _Finally, finally_. Her lips smiled against his.

After what felt like a lifetime she pulled away, beaming, and placed a hand on his face. For lack of anything better to say, she said breathlessly, "I guess I should ask you what that was for."

Oliver (equally bowled over, it seemed) ran his thumbs over her cheeks, laughing sheepishly. "It was getting ridiculous."

Katie laughed nervously. "It was. I didn't mean to snog you so hard."

"That's not what I meant," he shook his head earnestly, "Kates... I needed to. When I saw you at the game, and then at the party, I couldn't have wanted to kiss you more. I'd missed you, and... you were beautiful," he tucked Katie's hair behind her ear. "You're always beautiful. And I've been a right prat all this time."

"Ol, of course not," Katie blushed into his shirt.

"Why? I know I'm not the most eloquent bloke. But I mean it. I realized... I should have had the bollocks to do something long ago. And this setting is hardly romantic. No fireworks, no stars..."

But Katie couldn't have been happier standing in her living room, in his arms. She hugged him tighter, taking his scent in, hearing his heartbeat. She looked up at him and on her tiptoes gave him a timid kiss. "Are you kidding me? This is something of a miracle, after everything _I've_ done to muck things up. I thought... maybe it was just me."

"Kates," he murmured into her hair, more than satisfied with her confession. _This_ was how things were supposed to be. It just felt... right.

"Hmm?" Her hands found his. They intertwined their fingers fully, and found that they fit perfectly. She happily pulled him onto her couch, and he leaned in for another kiss. She playfully stopped Oliver's lips with her finger, and asked, "Well, then, what took you?"

He stopped for a beat. "I did see your message," he admitted. "But I didn't want to just barge in here without letting you recover. I realize now I may have frightened you this morning."

"Mmm, not in a bad way." She trained her eyes on his arms, a bit embarrassed. "I'm such a klutz."

"Good to know," Oliver said, and pulled her onto his lap. "Anyway I decided to go look for Fairfax in the meantime. I found her, by the way."

"You did!" Katie was close enough to inspect the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, and she damn near hexed my bollocks off, too. I decided to do one more sweep of the grounds. She was in her locker room. She hangs out there a lot to get away, I think."

"Had she been there long?"

"Well," Oliver winced, "It seemed she'd just gotten back, actually. I walked in at the most inopportune moment. She was exiting the shower. But I didn't see anything!" he hastily added as Katie smirked at him. "I was very much distracted by something else."

"What?"

"She had these..." he gestured around his face, "Gigantic gobs of black goo around her eyes. I demanded to know if she'd been cursed by Birch!"

"What! That was probably just her makeup! From last night!" Katie's peals of laughter filled the room.

"I know that, now," Oliver said petulantly. "She cussed me out badly - damn near decked me, too."

"Did you find out what happened?"

"No... She said she didn't remember. In any case, she's home safe. Maybe the less I know about the other things, the better." He shuddered at the thought.

Katie shook her head. "Stupid Birch."

"Kates," Oliver then implored, "I know you can take care of yourself. It's one of the best things about you. I only walked away last night because you asked me to, but I was watching very closely. But from now on, please... let me keep him away from you."

She regarded his serious expression, and smoothed the crease between his knitted brows.

"It's important to me," he added.

"Okay, Ol."

"I would have shoved him off sooner, but I had no right. I was... afraid of it."

"Of what?" Katie shook her head, not understanding.

"Of... this. I had no right to tell you what you should do. Even now I don't, but more so then because I sat around and did nothing about..." he took her hand and pressed it to his chest. She felt the thrum of his heart, strong if a bit quickened by his sudden emotion. "You have to know, Kates, it's always been you. Then I realized today... a girl like you doesn't deserve to sit around and wait on cowards. A girl like you shouldn't, and wouldn't."

"That's not fair. I was afraid, too."

"Godric must be rolling in his grave," he laughed, kissing her hands. More seriously he said, "For the longest time I've been waiting. For the right time, the right place, I told myself."

"Well, I wasn't exactly running after you." Katie blushed.

Oliver shook his head, reaching for a lock of her hair. "This was on me, Kates. Call me old-fashioned, but you deserve to be pursued. With all a man's heart. And if I can't do that," he held her hands tighter, "Then I don't deserve you. I may not be your Captain anymore, and I know you can take care of yourself, but I still want to protect you. From all those Bludgers, or from anyone that tries to hurt you."

"You _are_ my Captain, Ol. And you help me more than you could know. I was getting so tired of hiding it," she confessed. "Last night... I should have kissed you, too."

"Well." He smiled, and leaned in to kiss her again.

Katie faked a sigh, "I guess you're a step up from Davies."

"Juuuust barely."

"And I guess you're kind of better than that Birch pillock."

"Damn right, I am." Oliver huffed as she wrapped her hands around his neck and peppered his cheeks with kisses.

"I've always wanted to do that," she purred against his jaw. Her heart felt like it was going to explode.

"Well, now it seems we've got some making up for lost time to do," he declared, taking her face in his hands once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That's it for now! Hope you liked it! Now here's my important note :) I debated with myself a long while as to whether or not I should post this here, but I felt like I should do whatever I could to help. Please take some time to read it, and if you'd like, please leave me a review.**

**Dear friends,**

**I know this is an unorthodox post at the end of a chapter, but I'm reaching people any way I can. I beg of you to please pray for the Philippines, and if you can, donate to Red Cross or to UNICEF. If you've been following the news, you'll know that the biggest supertyphoon in the world has just ravaged the archipelago, leaving thousands of deaths and massive destruction in its wake. It's difficult to feel this when the rest of us haven't been affected at all, but let me try to show you:**

**It's been four days since the storm left but little aid has reached the most affected areas. It is to the Philippines' detriment that they are an island nation; supplies cannot be distributed easily, nor can power be restored. Not even in airports that they so desperately need to work to deliver goods. More than 2,000 people have died, and over 10 million people have been stripped of their homes, and deprived of food, water, and medicine. Basic supplies have only been coming in in trickles compared to the overwhelming need. Survivors are not only looking for their loved ones - they're looking for the means to live day by day.**

**Filipinos are among the happiest and most resilient people, and they've weathered a score of storms and rains with much aplomb just this year alone. But the typhoon Haiyan has been something else, even for them. If you can help, please, please, please do. Fanfiction might be our little escape, but this is so real. **

**That's all, and thanks,**

**Izzo.**

**LINKS TO DONATE (please just remove the space bars):**

**1. World Food Program goo. gl/go**

**2. UNICEF goo. gl/zSQYAV**

**3. The Philippine Red Cross goo. gl/WLncKe**


	19. Some Progress on Every Front

**A/N: In advance I'd like to say sorry, or you're welcome. I really don't know how you are all going to react to what may mean a change in rating. I just hope you love it. Caution: HOT!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19 - Some Progress on Every Front<strong>

"_There_ you areeeee! Come here, young man!"

Oliver shut his eyes and willed himself to vanish. It seemed that Priscilla the PR Pogrebin had finally caught up with him. And he was having such a good day, too: he'd gone for his run, done his time at the gym, written up some plays with Coach Nolan, and he was just headed home to write about more plays. Or perhaps Katie. He'd been feeling ridiculously energetic. But now...

"Priscilla," he turned around to greet the chubby publicist.

"My darling, _darling_ Oliver!" It was only a matter of time, really. He pursed his lips as she fussed over him.

"What have I done this time?" he asked tiredly, although he knew perfectly well what she was going to say next.

"What have you done? Why, utter _perfection_!" Priscilla fawned, positively delighted. Her fat paunch gave a little jiggle. "You didn't tell me you were finally seeing that girl!"

He clenched his jaw, and gave her a pained look. Few people could truly test his patience, and Priscilla could do it in record time.

"Well?" She pried, "It's all over the papers! This is a dream come true for me - I mean us! We can make a story out of this, love, and it need not be staged!"

"I haven't seen. I believe I've told you before that I didn't - I _don't_ want -"

"Oh, pish-posh. I'm your publicist, darling. I need to know these things! It's my job!"

"I'm sorry, Priscilla. By all means promote the _team_. But I've drawn the line. Katie is off-limits."

"I really must remind you that you are a _public figure_, yes? Your face is on protein bars, dear. People are morbidly curious about your life."

"Yes, thanks to you." He hadn't wanted to be on a protein bar.

"Thanks to _me_. Yes. My point here is, well, you had better be grateful for this celebrity status I've helped you attain. Other players would kill to not a private life!"

"What?" Oliver was incredulous now. "I just want to play Quidditch. Why don't you ask Davies who he's seeing? Or Phil and Neil!" He wasn't too careless to drop Flanner's name, however. He and Sean were in the same boat.

"Unbelievable! The sooner you get it in that skull of yours that Quidditch isn't _actually _about Quidditch, then the sooner -"

"Alright, alright. Priscilla? I'm _really_ not going to argue with you about this." He'd meant it as a final 'no', but judging from her sudden change in demeanor, the publicist clearly interpreted it wrong.

"I _knew_ you had some sense! Well, then. I'd better get started!" She reached up to pat him on the chest and waddled happily away.

"No, Priscilla, wait!" But she'd already turned a deaf ear.

Oliver then stalked home, resisting the urge to punch something. It wasn't worth it.

In the lobby, he came across Isadora, who thankfully had not a trace of black goo left around her eyes. "Alright there, Fairfax?" he asked as they stepped into the lift.

The Chaser stared at the buttons, as if unsure what to do.

"Oh. Lemme get that for you," he said, as he pushed both the buttons for the 14th and 15th floor.

She sighed, then, which led Oliver to ask, "Is... everything alright?"

"Shove off, Wood," Fairfax grumbled, leaving him to ponder in silence what had her in such a mood.

Not that this was anything new - Fairfax certainly had her mood swings. Extreme ones, too. She usually lashed out, but rarely did she reveal why. He didn't actually know that much about her, so he couldn't diagnose anything, but sometimes he guessed it was because she had a difficult childhood.

One night, he remembered, she'd had way too much to drink. She'd banged on his door until he let her in. First she tried to disrobe him, but when that didn't work, she slumped on the floor and moaned about how her father, a Death Eater supporter, was planning to auction her off to the highest pureblood bidder.

"I'd rather suck Salazar's snake than touch any of those thugs," she'd blubbered, and then proceeded to attempt climbing onto Oliver's lap, mumbling things about torture and chains being "so not her thing", but "I can make an exception just this once." He didn't get to carry her back to her flat on time, however: she'd violently puked a night's worth of food and alcohol onto his sleeping clothes. But he cleaned her up anyway, and tucked her in. The next day she went about being her normal snarky self, albeit massively hungover. No apology was issued, but Oliver was more than thankful for that. He was embarrassed enough over having to clean her up, and he didn't need her to acknowledge it and embarrass them both further.

With most other girls he'd have chalked it up to - what was it? SPM? PSM? Oliver didn't have a clue. But his minute knowledge of Fairfax's life alone was enough to deter him from doing anything to provoke her.

The doors pinged open at the 14th floor, and he gratefully stepped out and away from the surly woman. He cared for his teammate, sure, but sometimes she made it difficult to be a friend. It was much better when she channeled her anger through Quidditch. He shook his head. That was two speed bumps in what had been a really great day. Time to get back on track. He had plays to rewrite.

Except he couldn't, really. He'd changed into his flannel pants and sat down at his desk, wracking his brain for new maneuvers for his teammates. But they didn't come to him as easily. In fact, they were probably ridiculous. Because hard as he tried, another player kept popping into his mind. A particularly pretty one - tall, with long, brown hair. And a mean shooting arm. But she wasn't doing any drills on a broom. Gads, she wasn't even in her uniform! Most unusual. Instead, he found himself checking the next page of his journal for a message, and eagerly thinking of ways to... Oliver blushed at the thought. "Gah!"

This would not do. He looked at the clock - he'd wasted two hours, and forgotten all about lunch. He got up, impulsively tossed some Floo powder into his fireplace and yelled, "Sean Flanner's flat!"

The green flame blazed, and he stuck his head into the furnace. "Flanner? Flanner! Oi!"

"Coming, coming, no need to shout," his teammate called from elsewhere. Flanner walked into his living room, bent down and guiding a little blonde toddler with him. "Come now, Bea, say hi to Uncle Oliver."

"Hello Uncle Oliver," she said shyly, before hiding behind her father's legs.

"Someone's got a little crush on you," Sean teased, picking her up with a grunt. When Oliver didn't reply, he continued, "Did you just Floo me to stare at my fantastic physique, or did you actually have something to tell me?"

Oliver shook his head. "Sorry. Yeah, mate. I was just making plays," he grimaced. "Mind if I, er, come over?"

"Oh, no, you don't," warned Flanner. "We're off Quidditch for a few good days, and I want to enjoy some time with me girl."

"It's... not about Quidditch."

"It's not?"

"No."

"Since when does _Oliver Wood _-"

"Oh, bugger this. It's about Katie. I'm... distracted."

Now _this_ was more Sean liked it. "Is that so?" he asked, gleeful as a gossipy girl. "Can't Floo out, can you? Well Apparate on over! The wards will let you in. Don't splinch yourself, now!"

Oliver rolled his eyes and pulled his head out of the fire. Grabbing his wand, he took a steadying breath, and with a POP! he was gone.

"Whoa," he said, tottering over as he landed in Flanner's flat.

"Wow," marveled Flanner. "You weren't kidding. How distracted were you that you'd forget, oh, I don't know, to put a shirt on?" He covered his daughter's eyes.

"Uncle Oliver is naked," she giggled.

Oliver blushed. "Sorry, mate."

"Who taught you that word, young lady?" Flanner set her down on the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. He returned, tossing a shirt at the grateful Keeper. "Sit!" he commanded, "While I get us libations!"

Beatrice wormed her way onto Oliver's lap and sat there happily, and he absently brushed through her waves with one hand as she stared up at him in abject adoration.

He'd snogged a few girls before, yes. Responsibly, of course. And it was nice... "_But not as nice as snogging Katie."_

He'd liked some of them enough, sure. Mild interest counted, right? He winced in memory of the ten minutes he'd thought Amber had been, well, rather attractive. Until she opened her mouth to speak. "_Katie's voice would never irritate me. Nor would she be so vapid."_

The point was, he hadn't liked any girl enough to earnestly pursue any one of them further. And certainly not to the point where he was driven to distraction from Quidditch. _Quidditch! _He'd taken that leap with Katie knowing that he wanted her. But he hadn't anticipated... this. A strange emotion bore into him dully. He suspected it was panic.

"You look ill. Have a sip of this before you faint," teased Flanner, handing Oliver a glass of orange juice. Only it was spiked with quite a hefty dose of -

"Goblin gin?" Oliver protested, his face puckering. "It's hardly the afternoon!"

Handing Beatrice a cup of hopefully _un_spiked OJ, Flanner shrugged. "Takes the edge off. Now sit on daddy's lap and tell me what's wrong."

Hesitantly, Oliver mumbled, "I can't concentrate. I can't get Katie out of my mind."

"What's that now?"

"I can't think straight, mate. Every time I try to write down a play, I think of..."

"...Ah," nodded Flanner. "Your lady love." Oliver felt his ears heat up.

"Who!" cried Beatrice.

"Hush, baby, let him talk."

"Her name's Katie," Oliver finally answered the child.

"Is she pretty?"

_Great_, Oliver thought. _A toddler can make me blush. _"Yes, very." He glared at a smirking Flanner and continued patiently. "She has long, pretty hair, like you. And brown eyes. She plays Quidditch, like me and your dad."

"Wow," Beatrice sighed. "Are you in love?" At which point Oliver spluttered.

Cackling, Sean took his daughter from the indignant Keeper and placed her on his lap. "Now, now, Beatrice. What's got you so worked up, Wood? I saw the papers. And I know you're never gonna tell, but I feel like something's happened."

The Keeper only nodded.

"A good thing with Miss Katie, I presume?"

Another nod. A small grin.

"There's that Witch Weekly smile. So what's the problem? I mean, you went all the way?"

"No, mate!" Oliver huffed in frustration. "You don't just ask a bloke these things. It's weird!"

"Where'd you go?" Beatrice asked him innocently. Oliver shot her father a look.

"Nowhere far, it seems, baby," smirked Flanner. "Wood, I know just your problem. It's not a problem, really. You're just late to the glorious party that Muggles call _hormones_." He swept a hand across the air.

"What?"

"Hormones. Some potion _sky-ence_ in your body that makes you, a red-blooded male, all worked up over your attraction to a fit bird like Miss Bell. Heck, you could do a lot worse. Congratulations, mate!"

Oliver took a sip of his gin-spiked juice. "I don't understand. This has never happened to me before. How do I make it stop?"

"Make it stop? You can't! You're just kicked into high gear now because all this time, when other strapping young guns go off following their... _Beater's bats_," Flanner winked conspiratorially over his daughter's head, "You've been obsessed with Quidditch. And now that you have a new obsession of the normal kind, you don't know what to do with this sudden explosion of... feeling. If you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," piped up Beatrice matter-of-factly. "Uncle Oliver loves her so much he could cry."

"Exactly, Bea. See, Wood? It's simple. It's perfectly natural. And you're just a late bloomer. So when you get urges to shoot your Quaffle through Miss Bell's center hoop... Little Wood would reeeeally appreciate it. I'm sure you don't need me to elaborate?"

"I will treat Katie with the respect she's due!" Oliver cried indignantly. "She's not some... village broomstick!"

"Wood. Please contain yourself. I will not have my Beatrice picking up lewd ideas from you," Flanner joked as he fussed over the hem of Beatrice's frock. He pushed her legs together. "Now, don't you ever let a bloke in through there, my darling! Or I will kill him!"

"Flanner. She's three."

"Four, actually."

Oliver rolled his eyes.

"For what it's worth, mate, it's obvious you're crazy for her. Now I know you're not just plain crazy. Or asexual... I'm kidding!" Sean laughed as Oliver glared daggers at him. "Don't panic. Just... Get to know her. And your nether self," he smirked.

"Are you going to marry her?" Beatrice clutched Oliver's arm excitedly. "Will she be your mommy?"

"She means wife. She thinks they're the same thing," supplied Flanner wistfully.

"Er," Oliver replied, going pink again. It was a bit early for that.

"I want a mommy," she said off-handedly.

"Okay, that's enough, Beatrice Flanner!" Flanner swept the giggling child in his arms and tickled her til she forgot what she'd said. "Nap time!"

Oliver was deep in thought by the time Flanner returned. "Your kid is scarily perceptive."

"Hard to believe she's mine, eh?" More seriously, the Chaser said, "Hormones... aren't always a good thing. Beatrice is the best thing that's ever happened to me, you know that. But I wasn't ready for it. And now she doesn't have a mother."

"What about Geyser? I heard. From Katie, that is."

"We'll see, mate. If she falls in love with my Beatrice just as hard as I've fallen for her, then consider me a marked man."

"Good luck, then." Oliver got up, mentally postponing his plans to write plays. Those were obviously going to be fruitless until he sorted things out. Right now he needed a cold shower and a nap. He'd try again later.

"Thanks." Flanner shook his hand. "You, too. I'm a father, but since it's not my daughter we're talking about, here's my secret advice: Embrace your sexual prime! Responsibly!"

* * *

><p>Katie had spent the day at her parents' place. She hadn't had the chance to talk to them properly when she'd seen them at the game, so she took the next free day to have lunch with her mom. For once, Gladys Bell's wheedling about Oliver elicited a reaction less or other than protest. Of course her mother had noticed.<p>

"Sooooooooooo," she'd asked as they cooked their meal. "How are things with Oliver?"

"Oliv- er, they're fine, Mum," Katie said, not looking away from the chicken she was chopping.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, like... We're good." Katie looked up at her, a light blush tinting her cheeks. That was all it took. Gladys Bell dropped her spoon. "Oh, my darling, I'm so happy!"

She ran over to Katie and gave her disgruntled daughter a hug. "Just think," she gushed, "You and Oliver can have such beautiful children together -"

"Muuuum!"

"What's going on here?" Ed Bell walked into the kitchen, putting his briefcase on the table. "Something smells good."

"You, Edward, are about to gain yourself a son-in-law."

"_No_, Pop."

"Who's the bloke I've got to torture first, eh?" Mr. Bell said, a twinkle in his eye.

"Don't you dare touch a hair on my - that is, _Katie's_ Oliver's head."

"Oh, boy. So he's up and done it. I'm going to lose you forever."

Katie marveled at her parents. She hadn't said a thing! "Never mind _that_," she said emphatically. "Ask me, I dunno, a couple of weeks from now."

"Noted, baby girl," Ed planted a soft kiss on her head. "Now feed the man of the house."

"So? What's the news around here?" Katie asked.

"Well, darling," said her father, "Hasn't your mother told you? You're going to be a big sister."

"WHAT!" Katie dropped her knife.

"Careful, Katherine!"

"HAH! Look at your face. Priceless," guffawed Mr. Bell.

"Pop, that's not something you just spring on someone!"

"Don't fret, my love, your father and I haven't even had the time! He's been very busy, haven't you, Ed?"

"Yes, my lady, Wand Control is a most unforgiving occupation. It's a small miracle I'm even home today. Now if we can get _this one_," he eyeballed Katie, "Out of the house posthaste..."

"You're incorrigible!"

"It's why you love me. That, or my _own_ 'wand control'." He waggled his brows at his blushing wife, who came over and pretended to smother him with her apron.

"Oh, gross, Pop!" Katie laughed with them, for the first time wondering if she'd found the same sort of thing with Oliver.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Oliver struggled anew before his playbook. It was no use. He needed another shower. An ice-cold one.<p>

* * *

><p>"Leesh!" Katie nearly screamed later that evening as she got up to hug her best friend. Out of excitement, she'd gotten to the Leaky Cauldron about fifteen minutes early, and had taken the liberty of ordering them food and Butterbeer while waiting.<p>

"Hi!" Alicia seemed to be in a good mood that night as well. She gave Katie a one-armed hug, and rested a load of paper on a spare seat before sitting. "Nice dress! You look like you're going on a date."

"Oh!" Katie looked down at the white number she was wearing. "Bruna lent it to me - all my stuff's in the wash."

"Speaking of dates... Soooo?" Alicia asked.

Katie just beamed at her. "I'm so glad to see you."

"I think I can guess why." Alicia pulled out a couple of day-old publications and waggled them in front of Katie's face.

"The Prophet?" Katie read. "I haven't seen this!"

_THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES TRIUMPH OVER PUDDLEMERE UNITED IN HEARTSTOPPING QUIDDITCH OPENER. By Alicia Spinnet._

"This is great, Leesh!" she cried. "Congratulations, you, front page!"

"Oh," Alicia waved her off. "The article was just a lucky break in the first place. And there probably wasn't any real news going on. The real story's at the bottom, look!"

"Ministry probes Death Eater surge south of Glasgow?"

"No, silly." She pointed at a headline in the corner.

_DRAMA AT THE QUIDDITCH GALA! Full Story on A-23!_

"What's this about? Did you get that scoop?"

"No. Well, yes. But one of my colleagues at The Prophet dug up a little dirt. I thought you might wanna explain to me, hmm?" Alicia turned the page as a waiter delivered their drinks and an array of dishes.

"Did you invite your whole team? This is way too much food!" laughed Alicia as Katie scanned the article.

_All eyes were on our Quidditch stars after Holyhead's victory over Puddlemere United last night..._

_...Star-studded gala with no less than Ms. Celestina Warbeck, and up-and-comers, the Warehouse Wolves to entertain the A-list crowd, which included the likes of top-seeded Danish broom racer Philip Alexander, Norwegian artist Tonje Olsen..._

_...In particular on reclusive playboy Oliver Wood, pictured here with former flame, Amber Guest, and then with rumored new squeeze Katie Bell of the Holyhead Harpies. The ladies reportedly had a tiff at the bar..."_

"What!" Katie laughed, "Can't they see how uncomfortable he looks! 'Playboy' indeed. Why are you making me read this society page!" she pointed at the photograph, which featured Katie rescuing him from the bodacious socialite.

"Keep going!"

_A jilted Isadora Fairfax later spotted canoodling with Tutshill Tornados' owner and Chaser Brevis Birch, seemingly in competition for his attention with the Harpies' Wilda Griffiths..._

_...No question that our Quidditch stars need some extra activities to keep them in top shape..._

"Leesh," Katie marveled, "This is rubbish! I mean, parts of it are true, but -"

Alicia just eyed her carefully.

"Ugh! Fine."

_Meanwhile, a heated discussion amongst team managers Philbert Deverill and Lara Svityensky of the respective teams (pictured, left) seemed to be ongoing on the outskirts of the dance floor..._

_...Relations have reportedly been strained as of late, particularly with a high-stakes multi-player trade that did not push through among at least five Quidditch franchises, Holyhead and Puddlemere included..._

"I don't know anything about this," Katie frowned, pointing at the passage. "How true is any of this?"

"I thought you'd know," Alicia looked at her keenly.

Katie cast her a doubtful look, and got back to the article.

_...And all this before the regular season. There has been tremendous effort on the League Commission's part to iron things down behind-the-scenes, but drama seemed to take care of itself for the evening._

_Ironically, the highlight of the evening had to do with ending the party - a shouting match of epic proportions between Gwenog Jones and Wilda Griffiths of the Harpies. Meanwhile, a source reports Oliver Wood conspicuously left with one Katie Bell. A storm could be brewing. Stay tuned!_

"Well?" Alicia grinned, but Katie felt no such cheer. "I actually just wanted you to get to the last line."

"Wow. This looks like a disaster. I'm gonna need a minute to absorb this." Her mind was on the trade, which prior to reading this article she'd never even heard of. Why hadn't Lara told them anything? Katie ran through her personal performance quickly in her mind.

"What do you mean?" her friend's smile faltered. "Did you have a bad time with Oliver?"

Oh. That. "No, no! Far from it. But..."

"But what! Katie, if you don't know anything, I'm sure you can find out. And then maybe tell me afterwards. Right now I want to hear all the juicy details! Don't hold back on me!"

Katie forced herself to forget the rest and shared her fiasco-turned-right from the day previous.

After what ended up being a blissful afternoob of snogging (Katie blushed as she admitted this in watered-down phrasing to her delighted friend), Oliver had stayed for dinner, and then they'd gone out to play some Quidditch Horse on the silent pitch. It had been an even draw. She lent him her old broom, too, and together they flew over the lake and found a little spot to watch some stars.

Not that they did much stargazing, however. Katie blushed at the recollection. She ran her finger over the spot behind her ear, which she and Oliver had together discovered to be ticklish. She smiled to herself, recollecting how her hand fit in his, how her head reached the crook of his neck _just_ so... And how his lips felt on hers.

"Earth to Katie," chuckled Alicia, taking a bite out of her chip.

"What? Sorry!" Katie blushed to the roots of her hair.

"So... he stayed the night?"

"No!" Katie nearly screamed. "Not like _that_, I mean."

"Merlin's pants!" Alicia was in fits. "But really... What did I tell you? It was about damn time."

Katie nodded. "He said it was getting ridiculous. And it was, Leesh."

"Kate, it's been weird between you two since for_ever_. In a good way. Looks like he finally grew a pair."

"Hey!"

"So is he a good kisser?"

"Leeeeeesh," Katie whined softly, twirling her pasta round her fork distractedly.

"What? He must be, I mean look at your face."

Katie tried to bite back a smile. "Okay, fine. Yes, he's a good kisser. I mean, before, we didn't really..."

"Snog? Oh, you know Oliver. He was leaving school. He's not that kind of guy."

"Yeah, it would have been weird. But now... Oh gods, how rude of me!" Katie suddenly exclaimed. "I hadn't even asked how you've been!"

"Oh, you know, I've been okay," Alicia giggled nervously. It was always a sensitive topic, Katie knew. But Alicia continued, "I actually got to interview lots of Quidditch players the other night. Some of their responses are in my article... Just saving the rest for maybe a supplement."

"Sounds exciting! I didn't really get to meet very many people - I guess you know now I was pretty caught up."

"And I'm glad you were," Alicia smirked. "Then again, you missed out on all these _hot_ men! And imagine - I had the perfect excuse to talk to them! You know Kai Gustaffsson?"

Katie shook her head.

"Rookie Chaser. Appleby Arrows. Australian import. Half German. Nice tan, nicer biceps... Sandy hair and eyes of deep, deep blue..." Alicia spaced out dreamily. "And his accent! Unf."

"Oh!" Katie jogged her memory. "I think we played a friendly against him. He's _cute_."

"I _knoooow_!" giggled Alicia. "Fine, I guess I can share. He mentioned that trade, you know. Apparently your team had to put up with everybody making offers. Big offers, too. The Arrows put in a bid, but then bowed out and signed Kai instead. It was looking like... maybe four players or five from different existing rosters? You know there wasn't a regular draft this year."

Katie's ears pricked up. "Offers for whom?"

"Er. Wilda Griffiths? Or you? Or maybe even Annie Grant. It was a Chaser deal sometime in early October, that's all I know."

"Who wanted us?"

Alicia scoffed. "I think the question is, who didn't? I'd imagine your manager's been quite busy fending off other offers."

"But why?"

"I'm starting to realize... Quidditch is above all else a business," Alicia shrugged. "I love it, of course, but it seems players are just mercenaries, hired by the highest bidder. Godric, this pasta just hits the spot. Good call."

That was an awfully jaded thing to say. Not about the pasta - which was good, Katie agreed - but about the business. What of team unity? Love for the game? Working together for a ring? Katie asked her as much.

"I'm sure that exists, Katie," said Alicia. "All I'm saying is, if you're a team owner, and you've got an awful lot of money, and you're coming into a... a reset, almost, you're gonna wanna adjust to your best advantage. That's what's been happening with these teams. When this all starts, they'll have to work with what they've got, you know?"

"Oh."

"And the Harpies have got _plenty_," Alicia reassured her. "I'd fear for maybe the Magpies... Their star player doesn't seem to be right in the head."

"If you say so, Miss Analyst." Katie laughed along with her. But she still had to wonder...

"Hey. Katie. Spacing out again! So when are you gonna see Oliver next?"

"Er, I don't know, actually."

"You _don't._ _Know_?"

Katie shook her head self-consciously. "I mean, this is all so new, I don't wanna..."

"Seriously. I'd be all up on that business if I were you. What? Don't look at me like that."

"Aargh! Leesh... I just... I wanna be cool, okay? He's so busy and so am I..." Katie trailed off, looking at Alicia warily.

"As if you could have gone any slower," Alicia joked. "Pass me that Butterbeer."

* * *

><p>"So, are you gonna go out with Kai or something? You seem to be... much better," Katie plucked up the courage to remark as they stepped out of the Leaky. The girls were so full that they decided to take a stroll, not really meaning to go anywhere.<p>

"Mmmm, he hasn't asked me out," admitted Alicia. "But I'll admit I'm looking forward to seeing him again. I'm covering the Arrows and a couple other teams when you guys go on tour."

"Tour?"

"You know, playing Quidditch come January."

"Oh, right. But you'd go out with him?" Katie prodded.

"Uh," Alicia hesitated. "Yeah? Why not. It would be a good change. If he even asks, I mean."

"And why wouldn't he?" Katie laughed. "You're brilliant!"

Alicia merely quirked a lip.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, breathing fog into the air and commenting about how cold the weather had really gotten. Finally Alicia said, "I think I'm ready to move on, Katie."

"Move on," Katie repeated, dumbstruck. "You mean -"

"Oh, no need to be so tactful. I'm not gonna run away again. I just want to forget. Forget George."

"And by forget, you mean..."

"I want you to Obliviate me, Katie."

"WHAT! No!"

"I"m kidding!" laughed Alicia, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "But y'know, if Fred had never died... I wonder."

"Oh, Leesh, we can't bring him back."

"Sometimes I misdirect my anger at him. Or maybe at Percy for not having his back."

"Percy _is_ a ponce..."

"If Fred lived, would George still be mine?" Alicia looked up at Katie. "I thought he'd always be, sort of how Oliver was always yours... It just took you two longer to see it."

"Alicia, I -"

"Wait. If I know you, you're gonna apologize. It's not your fault. I'll admit though, I was a bit jealous. But I'm done being miserable. I realized that after I met Kai and it felt... _okay._"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." The girls stopped walking. Katie noticed a second later that they'd stopped right in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Let's keep going," Katie blurted.

"No," Alicia smiled at her bravely. "I'm ready." Taking Katie's arm, she steered them towards the shop. A little chime sounded as they walked inside.

"We're closed!" a disembodied voice came from the back, its owner rushed to the counter: "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to..." George rounded the corner and halted in his tracks. "Leave."

"If you want," joked Alicia weakly.

"N-no, st-stay!" stammered George, getting over his initial shock. "Please, sit. I just, uh, I was closing up and I, er. Bollocks."

"This probably isn't any of my business," Katie started. "Do you want me to..." she pointed her thumb to the door.

"Stay," both her friends practically yelled.

"...Okay," Katie said. "I'll just be over there." She made her way to some messy shelves and busied herself with righting the displays.

"So," Alicia began, "Is Ange around?"

"No," George shook his head fervently. "She's home, I think. Look, Leesh, I'm sorry. I didn't get to tell you before you left... I hadn't... I still haven't figured... Why'd you leave?"

From the corner of her eye, Katie saw Alicia shake her head. "George..."

Katie looked for somewhere to sit, anticipating that this would be a long talk. She plopped herself down on an innocuous-looking stool, only to jump back up in surprise when it emitted a loud, flatulent sound. "OH MY GOD!"

In spite of his nerves, George couldn't help but cackle. "Invisible fart cushions, sorry, love," he called. "Take one home, yeah? Stick it on Wood's broom seat for me?"

"Oh," sighed Katie in relief. She then conscientiously tried to drown out the sounds of Alicia's tale, eventually falling into a fitful nap against a shelf.

By the time she came to, she heard her friends speaking to one another in hushed tones.

"You've got to believe me, Leesh," George murmured brokenly, "Hurting you is the last thing I wanted to do. You mean so much to me."

"I do believe you," she replied, her tone of voice steady. "It hasn't been easy, but Ange needed - she needs you. And you need her. I've been getting better. Like you. You've been busy, and so have I. Friends?"

"You know it," George replied, although he sounded a bit uncertain. Katie couldn't have heard anything more unusual. More lightly, he said, "I've read your articles, you know. So... Quidditch reporting?"

Silence. Katie never would have guessed what Alicia said next. "Sorry. I just had to make sure Katie was asleep. It's kind of under wraps, but I had a double agenda coming to see you."

"What does that have to do with Quidditch? Are you in trouble? I have this cube I could install-"

"No, no trouble. At least, not yet."

"Leesh..."

"Just hear me out. I'm writing, but there's also something else I'm looking into. And I may need your help."

"I knew there was something fishy. Bill let slip about your curse-breaking stint - what? I didn't want to interrupt your story earlier. I just meant that you don't ditch training like that for, well... Witch Weekly. Or even sports writing. Unless... well, you really did leave just to, you know. Get away."

Alicia heaved a sigh. "George," she said tiredly, "I just wanted to ask for a few of your industrial strength extendable ears. Eavesdropping with the naked ear is pretty tiring."

Katie could relate. Alicia didn't actually say anything - was this about the trades? She'd been dodging the topic all night long.

"...Oh!" George sounded relieved, but still skeptical. "And here I thought you were getting into some dangerous business. Illicit broom dealing, maybe."

Alicia let out a courtesy laugh, which she abruptly cut when she heard a noise from Katie's corner. Katie swore internally - she'd knocked over a canister of some mystery goo by accident. "Oh, you're up!" Alicia said in a much louder voice.

"Hmm," Katie tried to sound disoriented. "I must have fallen asleep! What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Alicia shot George a look. "Those extendable ears, please? I'll pay."

"On the house, Leesh."

"Everything alright?" Katie asked, though she knew she'd cut their conversation off at a most inopportune moment.

Her two friends exchanged glances. "They will be," Alicia reassured them both.

A loaded silence later, and George proclaimed, "So! Did you want your ear like this one?" He put a hand to one ear and yanked it straight off, to Katie's supreme horror.

"George!"

"What? It's my fake ear, Kates," he laughed, handing it out to her. She stared at the thing, mouth hanging open. "Oh," he said, still mirthful. "You didn't know, did you? Death Eater blasted my real ear clean off. Bastard."

"But... It looked so real!" She poked it. It felt real, too.

"Why, _thank_ you."

"You have a hole in your head!" She reacted belatedly. How did she not know this? Had he been wearing a prosthetic the entire time?

"Mum used to say she could finally tell us apart. Er. Me and Fred."

Katie's expression softened. "Oh, try not to look at me like that, Katie. I already know I'm devilishly handsome."

She smiled then. "Prat."

George made quick work of Alicia's package, handing it to her with a meaningful look. Katie didn't miss it, but all the same, she said, "So, if you guys are okay... Maybe wanna grab dinner sometime? We owe my folks, you know."

"Yeah," Alicia assented. "I miss them. Hey, invite Ange, maybe."

"Alright," Katie smiled, deeply relieved. "Are we good?"

"Let's go." The girls bid George goodbye, and stepped out of the shop.

"I'm gonna Portkey home," Katie informed her Alicia, taking a little pouch out of her pocket. "Too tired to Apparate to Wales."

"Don't risk it," Alicia agreed. "See you soon. Let's go at the count of three!" They counted up, and Katie touched her Portkey and vanished. Alicia waited a long beat before turning back around and walking into the shop.

* * *

><p>Katie dumped her things onto her coffee table. Still bothered by her own ignorance of the goings-on in her business, she made a mental note to ask Bootsy to deliver her the paper daily. She also made up her mind to ask Lara about the trade. For some reason it bothered her. Even if Alicia assured her they were off-limits, she didn't like that the management was being so secretive. Is that where Lara had been off to?<p>

She retired to her room and pulled out her playbook. She hadn't spoken to Oliver all day, so her giddiness to talk to him took over. Looking through the pages, she could see he'd had a busy day, but judging from the ink stains, he hadn't written for a while. Briefly she inspected an incomplete but rather silly play he'd named "The Destroyer" (_"Ambitious,"_ she smirked), then grabbed a quill and some ink.

**Hey Captain! :) Just got back from dinner with Alicia. We saw George afterwards... I think they might be okay now. Are you busy tomorrow? I might have missed you today.**

She penned the last line quickly, before she chickened out. Dropping the journal, she sauntered over to her bathroom and took a shower. By the time she returned, she was greatly pleased he'd penned a brief reply. Oliver never was far from his journal.

_Hi! Been awfully busy today. I might have had some trouble focusing._

**You? Trouble focusing? Since when?**

A long pause followed.

_It's nothing, _he finally replied._ Just one of those days, maybe._

Katie frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

**I suppose it's nice to know you're not a Quidditch droid after all.**

She also hoped she came across as light-hearted, but her chest was sinking as she waited for his reply.

_What's a droid?_

**A Muggle robot? Electronic. A robot, incapable of feeling and stuff... ;)**

He didn't respond. Er.

**Well, I'm just winding down, **she tried again.** Dinner with Alicia was good.**

Katie waited for his reply for a minute, two, but none came. Sighing, she closed her journal. She walked over to her dresser and slipped on just a cotton camisole and its matching pair of sleeping shorts. Just then, a knock came on her door.

"Uh, just a minute!" She threw on a robe and rummaged through her hamper for Bruna's dress. Good - she hadn't stained it. Her teammate was utterly meticulous when it came to her things. She made her way into her dark living room, not bothering with the lights. "I should have dropped this at yours sooner," she began, swinging the door open.

But it wasn't Bruna. It was Oliver, holding that silly stress ball they'd used as a Portkey and looking like he'd just run a mile.

"Well," he grinned, "You could have dropped it at my place. Then I wouldn't have had to come over."

Katie dropped the dress. Grabbing his shirt instead, she pulled him in for an enthusiastic kiss. "You prat," she murmured as he worked his lips down her neck. "I thought you were upset with me."

"It's all your fault. You called me a droid." He looked almost hurt.

"You didn't even know what that _was_."

"Valid point," Oliver acquiesced, "But I was far from upset." He led her to what was fast becoming his favorite couch. She smelled maddeningly delicious, and he told her just that as he pulled her onto his lap.

"Now you know how I always feel around you," she smirked as she straddled him, desire pooling at the bottom of her belly. She saw the same desire reflected in his darkened eyes and flushed face, and felt a hard length pressing urgently against her. "Captain," she gasped. When they'd snogged the night previous he'd been a perfect gentleman, but now... His surprise visit excited her, ignited her, had her wanting him to touch her all over.

"Sorry," he looked embarrassed. "I - mmph!"

Katie attacked his lips with renewed fervor, letting her hands fall from his hair to run down his shoulders, biceps and forearms, which had wrapped around her back. She took his hands and guided them lower, giving him a meaningful look as she planted them firmly on her bum. He got the message, squeezing her cheeks and pulling her closer and grinding his member, now rock-hard, against her center with a moan. There was no doubting it - he wanted her. And by Morgana, she wanted him, too.

His hands roamed back up her curves to cup her face for a searing kiss, and then traveled to her shoulders to push her robe down her arms. She shivered, pulling away a little. "It's cold, Captain," she giggled as he kissed her neck.

"Is that so?" he pulled back, looking down at her form. She was wearing precious little - her arms and legs were completely exposed, with goosebumps rising on her skin. He couldn't help but notice she wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts, round and pert, strained against the fabric of her low-cut top. "May I keep you warm?" he asked, gaze transfixed on the outline of her hardened nipples.

"Please," she moaned, pulling his head back closer. A thrill ran through her body to replace the chill as he raised his hands to touch her breasts for the first time, lightly, reverently. He ran his thumbs over her peaks before giving them a light squeeze. She let out a little giggle. "That tickles."

"Hey, Katie?" A familiar voice called. "I saw your door was open so I came by to grab my dre - oh!" Bruna, the queen of ill-timed entry stood gaping in the doorway, which was indeed open and letting the cold air in. The two jumped, and Oliver scrambled to cover Katie back up with her robe. "Sorry," Bruna squeaked, averting her eyes. "If this is a bad time, I can just..." seeing her dress discarded on the floor, she grabbed it, slammed the door, and ran off.

Flabbergasted, Katie clutched her robe to her chest, mouth agape. Oliver looked similarly flustered. "I'm so sorry, Captain," she managed, before climbing off him and straightening her clothes. "I didn't know what came over me."

"No, I'm sorry, Kates." He grabbed her hand and sat her back down. "I'm sorry for coming over unannounced and acting... I was uncouth."

"Not more uncouth than me," she blushed, although she let him wrap a reassuring arm around her. "I... we shouldn't have."

Oliver murmured his assent against her temple. "Let's get you warm," he declared, and clearing his throat, he pointed his wand at her fireplace and got a little blaze started. "There."

"Thanks." The light the fire lent the room helped her see him better. His hair was tousled, lips swollen. And he was taking deep breaths to steady himself. She felt she must have looked the same.

They sat in reflective, companionable silence for a few minutes before Katie said, "I should probably apologize to Bruna. Again."

"_She_ should apologize," Oliver said weakly. "She's the one who keeps barging in."

"We left the door open, you prat. There's no explaining my way out of this."

"I'm sorry I put you in that position, Kates," Oliver said earnestly. "I wasn't acting like a gentleman."

"Don't be. I wasn't exactly being a proper lady, either. I'm so embarrassed." She groaned into his shoulder, pulling her legs up and in front of her chest. "What do I tell Bruna?"

"The truth, I suppose? I can't imagine she even believed you the last time she saw us in a... compromising position."

Katie slapped his chest lightly. "Coach is going to kill me."

"I certainly hope not. I'd miss you."

"Say your goodbyes, Captain..."

"No!" Oliver held her tighter. Softly, he said, "Well, one thing's for sure... Kates, we need to take things slow."

Katie nodded. "I agree."

"I care about you too much to let certain..." Oliver swallowed, "Urges... get the better of me. It won't be easy, I'll tell you that. You're too... _you_ for your own good." He didn't mention Quidditch - he'd figure out how to regain focus. Just not right now.

"I could say the same for you," Katie chortled, poking him in the ribs.

"Aah!" he cried. "You're going to pay for that, Bell!" he retaliated in kind, tickling her off the couch and onto her carpet before the fireplace. They rolled around, snogging forgotten, until they lay in a heap, laughing in spite of being winded.

As they settled down, Katie inspected the freckles across his nose and met his gaze, which was quickly growing dark again. He trained his eyes on her lips, and she licked them self-consciously. "You'd better go, Captain," she murmured before her resolve wore off. She had so much to discuss with him, but now didn't seem to be the time. They'd just end up... she blushed.

Oliver nodded, and she pressed her lips against his lightly. She pushed up off his firm chest and averted her gaze as he got up. She knew all too well the effect his body had on her. She let him take her hand and lead her back to her front door. "Have you got another Portkey?" she thought to ask.

"I wish I didn't," Oliver quirked one side of his mouth.

"Me too, Captain," Katie gave him a small push. "Go."

"No good night kiss?" he wrapped his arms around her one last time. She pretended to sigh, "Fine." On her tiptoes, she offered him her lips, which he claimed with his. Gentle, sweet, controlled. Chaste.

"Good night, Captain," she smiled as she opened the door for him.

"Good night, Kates. I'll see you soon." Sticking a hand in his back trouser pocket, he whirled around and vanished.

_"Soon,"_ Katie thought giddily as she felt her still-tingling lips. Soon couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well? A little bit of everything in this chapter - it all has a point, I promise! How'd you like that last bit? Loved it? Hated it? Please leave me a review and let me know! I'd particularly appreciate signed reviews because I'd love to pick your brains for feedback. Super important goings-on in the next few chapters, and I could use all the help! xx Izzo**


	20. Holiday Jealousy

**A/N: Sorry for the prolonged break! So happy to see you guys approve of the last part of the previous chapter! In particular, this goes out to magicmushr00m and painterly-pot, whose messages and reviews have given me the push to finish editing this in spite of my crazy schedule.**

**And now. Back to Quidditch! Plus Christmas! (Would you kill me if I admitted I meant to post this _before_ Christmas?)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20 - Holiday Jealousy<strong>

Winter was perhaps Katie's least favorite season for Quidditch practice: her skin was dry and her lips chapped from the blustery wind, and though magic helped wick the melting snow off her clothing, the icy water still seeped down her neck and chilled her to the bone.

"You think we could just magic it warm?" she'd shivered. "I mean, it's December. It's freezing. We could get sick."

"These are the conditions we'll have to play in when the season begins next year," was Bruna's trembly answer. "Only the bleachers will be heated. Besides, don't you already have someone to keep you warm?" she managed to smirk.

"Yeah, yeah." The day after Bruna had walked in on her and Oliver, Katie came clean to Bruna about him. Well, _them_, if that was accurate. Her teammate, having been in her shoes, was totally understanding, albeit prone to taking the mickey out on her. Bruna did, however, swear to secrecy. It would not do for Coach King or Gwenog, both of whom were getting crabbier by the day, to have a new outlet for their rage.

The truth was this: things been rather cold among the ladies of the team. In particular, Gwenog seemed to continually be picking fights with Wilda. As Katie had learned early on, fights were commonplace between the two, but their arguments of late had escalated to the level that probably came before physical violence. These could be offset by the tiniest things, say, Wilda forgetting to lace her boots up, but they would almost always end badly. Wilda had on more than one occasion walked out on practice, to the utter disbelief of Coach King.

Coach King would then take her rage out on not only Wilda and Gwen, but on the entire team come the next practice. They were forced to run drills shin-deep in snow, and then shovel it afterwards. Then they had to get up in the freezing air and do more drills until someone's nose bled from the cold, or worse, from a Bludger careening out of control. Sometimes the snow made it difficult for them to see, and thus far Katie herself had been the victim of a couple of Bludgers, to Jones' secret dismay. On more than one occasion did Glinda burst into tears of frustration, though Coach King showed uncharacteristically little sympathy for her favorite player. Though hardly discussed, the rift was taking its toll on the entire team.

"'Tis the season, eh?" Katie asked Bruna, who looked literally like an ice queen by her frost-encrusted hoops. But even Bruna could not ever look as frigid as Wilda, who was shooting nasty looks at Gwenog from across the pitch. "Time for love and sharing and friendship! Fa-la-la-la-laaaa..."

"Spare me, Bell."

Katie wasn't one to complain, but she knew she was being pushed to her limits. Still, she wasn't going to break. She mused over the irony - her once-hated ice baths now seemed lukewarm compared to the weather they were subjected to, though she certainly didn't mind the switch to a warm soak in the locker room post-training. Later, as she lay in the locker room tub, she considered that she hadn't had time for her other priorities lately. She'd seen nothing of her family and friends for some time.

The past month had been incredibly busy for not only her, but Oliver, too. She actually hadn't gotten to see him as much as she'd have liked, but judging from his habitual mad scribbles on their shared journal, she could guess he was being worked just as hard as she. Oliver was a workhorse by nature, and she wished she had that kind of dedication.

Her personal mission to speak with Lara had also been fruitless: the manager was out for days at a time. Her mentor, Miss Raul, was similarly busy with his muggle pursuits in fashion - something about conceptualizing a ramp show that involved modeling underwear in the dead of winter.

Katie sighed in the tub. She was never really isolated, but winter was beginning to feel awfully lonely.

From the locker room, Katie joined Bruna in walking down the atrium of their complex, which smelled delicately of cinnamon, gingerbread, and peppermint. Christmas was her favorite season, and training sessions aside, she took great pleasure in how the Harpies celebrated the holiday.

Sprigs of mistletoe floated around the atrium, freezing people in place until they exchanged air kisses. The Snitches flew along the illusion of a snowy night sky like bright, golden stars. The carpet was no longer green, but a deep crimson, and festive poinsettia flowers replaced the usual decor. More flowers and holly boughs comprised the garlands that encircled the room, and a massive dressed-up pine tree stood in the center of the atrium. The house elves wore Christmas-themed sacks, but no amount of wheedling could get them to agree to any Santa hats or jingle bell-adorned shoes to suit the occasion. Even Martha the security witch was feeling the cheer - she'd voluntarily donned a Mrs. Claus outfit instead of her uniform, and looked very jolly, indeed. Katie bid her a good evening as she wore her mittens and stepped out to join Bruna, who suddenly looked like she was in an awful hurry.

"What's the rush?" Katie asked.

"Just remembered I've got a date with Sean tonight. He's set to pick me up in an hour, and I need to get ready!"

"I can help," Katie offered with a smirk.

"Please," Bruna linked their arms. "As if you'll do anything of the sort."

"Yeah, but I wanna be there when Sean picks you up. I wonder what he's bringing this time." Sean was unabashedly romantic, and in the two months that he and Bruna had rekindled their relationship, he had without fail presented her with flowers each time he visited.

"He doesn't need to bring anything!" Bruna blushed. "You did good today, by the way. Your passes have gotten much tighter."

"Thanks Bru," Katie smiled. "Could've just been a fluke, though, 'cause my muscles got frozen inelastic."

Katie dropped her gear off at her place and walked into Bruna's. The Keeper had wasted no time getting ready, and Katie spied a pretty dress laid out with shoes and a matching clutch. Bruna was nothing if not prepared.

"Aren't you going out with Wood tonight?" Bruna asked. "He should be free, too."

Katie winced a little. "Uh, I don't think so. Not that I'd mind some dinner, dancing... I dunno. I'm not even really into that stuff!"

"No?" Bruna emerged from her bathroom and stepped into her dress. "Zip me up?"

Katie obliged, asking, "Should I be worried we don't do that?"

"Mm, I don't think so. I'd say Wood and Sean are very different animals."

"How so?"

"Well, Sean is... At this point, he can afford to be direct. And he's made his intentions very clear."

Katie tittered awkwardly. "We're not there yet, Ol and I."

"Well, from what Sean tells me, you've done quite a number on him. Organically, too. Maybe he's just testing the waters like you. You've been friends for so long, so just... go with the flow." Bruna nudged her.

A knock sounded on the front door. "That'll be Flanner," Katie said.

Bruna checked the mirror, and took a breath. "How do I look?"

"Perfect," Katie rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "As usual."

"You're too kind." Bruna let Sean in, and the doorway was filled with a gigantic bouquet of mismatched flowers. "Sean!" Bruna murmured as he kissed her on the cheek. "This is a bit..."

"Sorry to disappoint, love. Before you get too impressed," he began, "These are actually two bouquets. One for you," he handed her a classic bouquet of white roses, "and one is for a Miss Katie Bell. Do you know where she is?"

Katie was flabbergasted. "Er, present," she called from behind them.

"Good evening!" Sean spotted her, and made a show of presenting the sunny zinnias to her. "For you, milady, from the most useless Oliver Wood."

"For me?"

"Yes, he's tied up this evening but he ambushed me after training and demanded that I bring you these. He didn't even tip me, mind you!"

Katie grinned into her bouquet, spying an envelope within the arrangement. "Thank you. They're lovely."

Bruna conjured a vase for her roses and said, "See, Katie? Nothing to worry about."

"Impatient with my boy already?" chided Flanner. "He's got quite a lot to learn, but he's got _some_ game, I like to think. You'll see for yourself. Well, we must be off! Wouldn't want your Coach to spot me."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Katie," smiled Bruna, taking Sean's arm. A second later, they were gone.

Katie walked home and arranged her flowers in a vase. Admiring them, she then opened the envelope and read the note therein.

_Dear Kates,_

_I hope you like the flowers. You don't know how much I wish I could have made plans with you for tonight, but there are a few urgent things that need seeing to. I hope you don't mind, but I've gone and asked Sean if Geyser told him the Harpies' schedule tomorrow. He says you've got a free day, so I hope you wouldn't mind spending it with me?_

_Missing you,_

_Oliver_

_P.S. Flanner says the Apparition from here to you isn't too difficult if you're very familiar with the area, so I've had the wards adjusted to admit you. But if you're uncomfortable with Apparating over to Dorset, any of these flowers will activate as Portkeys at 11 a.m. I'll be ready for you then. :-)_

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><p>The next morning, Katie got up uncharacteristically early. She reviewed Oliver's letter, then decided she'd pop over before time. She had to quell her excitement as she prepared to Apparate long distance. Clearing her mind, she imagined the Puddlemere landing area and disappeared with a <em>pop!<em>

Katie opened her eyes to a familiar alley, though it looked much wider in the daytime. She walked out of the clearing and inspected her surroundings: it hadn't snowed as much in Dorset, though the more Spartan facility still looked festive. The sidewalks were lined with dressed up shrubbery, and the building Katie knew to be Oliver's home boasted floating globes of glass and gold. In the lobby stood a grand Christmas tree, and Katie helped herself to a candy cane from its branches.

She rode the lift to the fourteenth floor, and the doors opened without her having to knock. Stepping into Oliver's flat, she was accosted by a much more bothersome ruckus coming from behind his bedroom door.

"Come _on_, Oliver!" a female voice whined. "We don't have all day."

"It's not going to fit in that little opening!"

"Yes it is, it's not as big as you _think_ -"

_What?_ Katie's eyes widened in alarm as she strained to listen. Was this why he couldn't visit last night?

"Yes, just like that. Harder!"

"I don't want to damage anything -"

"Oh honestly. It's like you've never done this before! Give it here, just thrust it in!"

Katie could listen no longer. She swung the door open, and walked in on a red-faced Oliver trying to stuff his toy broomstick into a little purse held by - "Her...Hermione?"

"Kates!" Oliver gasped.

"Er," she began, feeling foolish. A mound of toy broomsticks lay at the pair's feet, as did some Quaffles and some hoops. Ribbons were haphazardly scattered about the room. "What's going on here?"

"Oh! Sorry about the mess," Oliver set the broom down and dusted his hands off. "Hermione here was just helping me out with something. Er. I didn't get to warn you."

"Hi, Katie," smiled Hermione warmly. She was looking much better - her frame had filled out after the war so that she looked healthy, and her hair, though still big, looked wild and fabulous. She looked every inch the spitfire heroine, and oddly, Katie couldn't help but feel a little insecure.

"Hey," she greeted back, albeit a little weakly. "You're looking great!"

"Thanks," Hermione said, "Though I was about to say the same! You and Oliver look very well indeed." She stepped back to admire the pair, who eyeballed each other awkwardly. "Oliver here invited me to help pack Christmas presents for his little friends."

"Er... house elves?" Katie ventured a guess. "For STEW?"

"It's SPEW," Hermione said curtly.

"Bless you," Katie replied without thinking.

"S.P.E.W., Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare." Hermione corrected. "But no. You haven't told her, Oliver? It's a lovely story."

He hadn't. "What do you mean?" Katie tried to quell her growing jealousy.

Hermione excused herself to make a Floo call, and Oliver picked his way past the toys at his feet to kiss Katie on her temple. "Kates, would you like to help pack presents to send to the Dorset Home for Orphaned Witches and Wizards?" He took her hand and led her to his study, a room Katie knew was more for decoration and not actual work. "The first year I played as a starter, one of the earliest bits of fan mail I received was from a little boy named Timmy." Oliver picked a piece of parchment up from his desk. "I showed this to Hermione earlier - he'd drawn me, though he didn't know what I looked like."

"It's not bad," Katie said. The stick figure in brown robes hung off the side of its broom in a daring fashion before some crude hoops. "What do you mean he didn't know? Is he blind?"

"No. There was a note attached, from their governess. She told me that he and the other kids would listen to our games over the Wiz Radio. It had been their dream to watch a game, only they don't have a telly over there."

"Why'd he owl you, though? Why not Flanner? Or Williams?"

Oliver laughed. "They _had_ been around longer. But I think things really changed for Puddlemere that year."

"Oh, don't be so modest. They probably knew you were special." When Oliver didn't reply, Katie prodded him encouragingly. "So I take it you'd given them a visit?"

Shrugging, Oliver said, "Yeah. The first time, I went with Flanner. We brought them a new telly, and then some Christmas dinner. We stayed for pudding and stories. Last year was too dangerous to visit. The children were in hiding."

Katie nodded.

"This year, unfortunately, some of the children have come down with the mumblemumps -"

"Ugh! I got that in Second Year."

"So I wasn't allowed to visit. I opted to send them something nice instead. I got these toy broomsticks in secret - if Priscilla hears about any of this..." Oliver ruffled his hair.

"But why didn't you tell me?" she couldn't keep it in. She hated feeling even a little bit resentful. "I mean... Hermione -"

"I wanted to surprise you later in the day. Hermione was just going to help me sneak the gifts out. I actually Owled Potter in case he could send them a card, but he's busy this morning so Hermione came over to bring his note. And she has that handy bag with her, so she basically insisted on taking the toys off my hands."

"Harry?"

"Yeah, I mean, the kids would love it. Not every day a guy can say he played Quidditch with Harry Potter."

"I suppose not," she agreed. "So Harry isn't coming? I would've liked to see him again."

"Not this morning, no, but -"

"I just got off the Floo with Molly," Hermione interrupted. "You _are_ still joining us for supper tonight, right? We're celebrating Christmas early because Bill and Charlie are only back from their adventures but a few days. It won't be anything fancy... their first Christmas without Fred. The Weasleys would love the added cheer."

Oliver turned to Katie. "Surprise," he said. "I bumped into Charlie the other day, and we decided to get a big Gryffindor team reunion on. The Weasleys' seemed the most apt place. We could pick your gear up after lunch."

"Ol!" Katie cried. "Harry'll be there too?"

"And everyone else." He quirked a lip. "How 'bout it?"

Katie turned to Hermione and answered for them, "We'd love to!" taking Oliver's hand in hers.

Katie was much more enthusiastic about stuffing the toy broomsticks into Hermione's tiny purse after that. And when the clock struck eleven, Hermione took her leave, and Katie Side-Alonged with Oliver into what appeared to be a bustling Wizarding avenue.

"Diagon Alley?"

"Yup," Oliver answered. "I figured we could do some Christmas shopping together."

"Haven't got me my present, then?" she teased.

Oliver looked almost offended.

"I'm kidding. I got you something, too, though. It's at home. I'd like to give it to you on Christmas Eve, though."

"Alright, it's a date."

They made quick work of the shops, picking out small tokens for teammates and for the Weasleys. As they sat down for late lunch, someone tapped Oliver on the shoulder.

"Hermione!" he said, surprised.

"Hello Oliver," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. Katie glanced at it, but quickly fixed her eyes on their company. "Hi Katie. I'm glad I saw you from outside! I just got back from the orphanage. Their governess, Mrs. Green, says thank you very much for the presents. The children aren't yet in the condition to play, but soon enough I think they will be. I dropped by the apothecary beforehand and picked up some potions - they should be better in no time!"

"That's great!" grinned Oliver. "You're a miracle worker. Have you eaten? Join us!"

Katie bit the inside of her cheek.

"No, I couldn't!" laughed Hermione. "I'm on my way to George's now, then I've got one last meeting with Kingsley this afternoon before he goes on holiday."

"The Minister?" Katie asked.

"Yeah," Hermione fiddled with her bag. "He just called in a small favor."

"Wow, that's excellent," Oliver complimented her.

"Trust me, it's nothing big," Hermione laughed, squeezing his shoulder. "I'll see you both later, yeah?"

"Yeah," Katie replied, as Hermione swung her big mane around and walked out of the shop.

"What a scout," Oliver grinned, resuming eating. "Lucky she was around, hmm?"

"Yeah," Katie repeated.

Oliver studied her face. "...Why are you pouting?"

"Am not. I was just agreeing that you were lucky for all her help."

He stared at her a moment more. Something dawned on him suddenly. It was a brilliant flash of insight: those often came by him when it came to Quidditch, but never when it came to women. "Kates. Don't tell me you're jealous." His eyes were twinkling now.

"No," Katie replied a little too quickly. She blushed, staring into her drink. _Dammit_. She sighed, "I don't know. Maybe just a little. She's just so... _good_ at everything!" And Oliver seemed mighty impressed by her, but she didn't need to remind him of that. She decided then and there that being jealous was the pinnacle of uncool.

Oliver laughed then, and took her teacup from her. "Not everything. Granger can't fly a whit."

"So it's Granger now?"

"Humor me."

"Okay," she acquiesced with a little eye roll, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her mouth. "Fine. So she hates flying. But she's a war heroine."

"So are you."

"A straight-O war heroine. Who does personal favors for the Minister of Magic."

"Granger got a P in Flying. She doesn't even like Quidditch," Oliver went on, undeterred.

"That _is_ a crime," Katie smirked. Oliver and his priorities.

"Granger doesn't know me like you do."

"She knows a lot of things, though."

"Not about me. Or the things that matter to me."

"Like?"

"Quidditch."

"Naturally."

"And you." Oliver stroked the back of her hand with his fingers.

"Me?"

"Granger's not the one I want to take home to meet my mum."

"Well, aren't I the lucky one?" Katie deadpanned.

"No, I am," Oliver grinned.

"You want me to meet your mum?"

He searched her face. "Yeah."

"I..."

"I mean, it doesn't have to be now," he hedged. "But I do. When the time comes. Someday."

"Ol... that would mean a lot to me."

"Me too."

She looked at him then, and thought she might kiss him. She knew she'd been silly now, though she was glad he hadn't told her so. But he tell her, "And you have much better hair than Granger. Even after flying."

Katie mock gasped. "Don't be mean!"

Oliver merely shrugged, and that was that.

* * *

><p>That afternoon, Katie looked on as Oliver, Harry, and the Weasleys set up a pitch outside. Hermione asked why she didn't join them, but Katie said she was content to prepare snacks with her and Angelina.<p>

"They only need so many hands, and I think the boys have missed it more than I."

Ange smirked. "We've got a nice view of Wood's bum, don't deny it. You're dating, for Merlin's sake."

"Funny," Hermione remarked, "I haven't heard of it much in the news."

"Oh," Katie said. "Well, we, uh, try to keep it to ourselves. Our teams aren't exactly best friends. Sometimes it slips out, but so far it's been pretty low-key."

"That's good. Nothing kills relationships faster than overexposure." Hermione cocked her head in thought.

Ange asked, "So, uh, you don't give Alicia the scoop on anything then?"

"Well, she doesn't publish anything, if that's what you're asking. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"So George told you?"

"Told me?"

"Oh, come on."

Angelina looked torn for a moment before replying, "He did, but we haven't actually talked about it properly. Alicia's visit, I mean. It's been... weird."

Katie frowned. "You and George?"

Ange sighed. "It's been strange enough as is. And I guess we haven't really come to terms with, you know. Us."

Katie nodded. "I was really expecting to see Alicia now, though."

"I'm here," a voice came on cue. Alicia stepped into the kitchen. "Hey, guys," she murmured. "Happy holidays."

"Hey!" Katie said carefully, as Angelina stood dumbstruck over the vegetables she was washing. "You're here!"

"Sorry," said Alicia. "I was -"

"Come on then!" Charlie Weasley poked his head through the door. "Why, nobody has any manners in this house. Leesh!" he extended his greeting, "Come in! I'm glad you could make it. You too, Katie. It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yeah," Katie reached out her hand to shake his. "Pleasure. Oliver always mentioned back at school that he had to live up to your expectations. _The_ Charlie Weasley."

"Wood? Good kid, that one. Always knew he had a good eye for Quidditch, never knew he had a good eye for girls as well." Charlie winked. "Can I call you Kate?"

"Don't mind him, Katie," Ginny marched through with a few brooms. "He only ever gets to flirt with dragons in Romania. C'mon, loser," she told Charlie. "Bill's cleared the snow."

"That'll be your cue to go," drawled Hermione. "I'll get dinner ready with Molly."

Katie, and Alicia walked out to join the group, with Ange taking the rear. Oliver possessively slung his arm over Katie's shoulders, and the boys all smirked at him knowingly. George only looked nervously between Alicia and Ange, but nobody else acknowledged this. If there was anything the Weasleys were good at, it was acting like everything was normal. Percy, immensely relieved upon seeing Alicia, exclaimed that he would not deign to play, and marched back inside to "inspect some cauldrons".

"Alright!" Bill rubbed his hands together. "Five on five. Rock-paper-scissors, winners versus losers. Since we're in the presence of professionals here, Katie and Wood cannot be on the same team."

"What!" Katie laughed.

"Nor can you play your respective positions."

"Can do," Oliver grinned amiably.

"No Beaters, this is strictly scrimmage and a Snitch chase. Let's go!"

Katie ended up losing the hand game against Oliver, and was placed on the same team as Charlie, George, Ginny, and Ron. Oliver, on the other hand, was teamed with Bill, Harry, Angelina, and Alicia.

"Let's go, adopted Weasley," Ginny high fived her. "We'd better win this!"

"I hope you're ready to get creamed," Katie taunted Oliver as Charlie slung an arm around her shoulders. "Again."

"I think I'll redeem myself this time around," he smirked.

They huddled with their respective teams: Katie was assigned Keeper, and Oliver was to play a Chaser. Her team assigned Charlie as Seeker, and Harry was to be his counterpart. A different frisson of excitement went up her arms as she made her way to the makeshift hoops. It was good to be playing with friends again.

Upon the release of the Snitch, the Quaffle was tossed up, and Ginny quickly made a grab for it. She flew past Oliver's defense and passed it to Ron. He fumbled it a little before flying towards the goalposts, which Bill was gamely blocking. Tossing it to George, Ron blocked off a goofy swipe by Oliver before George threw it to Ginny, allowing her to punch it in.

"Ten-zero!" Ginny triumphantly cried as she scored.

"Watch out, baby sister, because that's the only one you're getting past me!" Bill hollered at her retreating form.

"Well you need to try harder!"

Oliver grabbed the rebound, and he rallied Ange and Alicia to flank him as they made their way to Katie's goals. Katie missed it, but he deftly passed the Quaffle to Angelina as she barreled past George. Ange found herself blocked off by Ginny, who was all over her as she tried to find an opening. Looking around desperately, Angelina called to Alicia, who was by her side in under two seconds. A fake out and a pass later, and they scored past Katie, who was too busy inspecting their dynamic to make a proper attempt at a save.

"Ten all!" Bill hollered, and Katie couldn't help but smile as her two best friends tentatively high fived each other.

"Shoddy Keeping, Bell," Oliver heckled as she made to inbound the Quaffle. "You sure you play pro?"

"That was just a warm-up, Captain," she grinned, throwing the ball to an unprepared Ron. "Let's go!"

The game carried on for another hour or so, and Katie couldn't help but notice how athletic the Weasleys were. Even if Ron was a little on the awkward side, they could all play hard. She didn't mind sitting by the goalposts, but she knew that if she were playing Chaser, they'd each give her a run for her money. They weren't afraid to jostle one another to score. Oliver himself looked like he was having the time of his life, and he gave as good as he got. It was refreshing to see him truly having fun - too long had Katie only known him to take Quidditch seriously.

What surprised her the most, though, was how Ginny could play. She clearly dominated over the opposite team - it might have been that they were afraid to hurt her, but her mindset was obviously different. She banged into Bill and Oliver when she had to (and sometimes even when she didn't), on occasion so hard that Katie had to gasp and make sure she was alright. But thanks to Ginny, their team was up five goals - 140-90, and they showed no signs of slowing down.

"Wuhoo, go Gin!" Katie cheered on her female teammate as she got yet another goal past Oliver and Bill's defenses. She'd flown in after retrieving the ball from George, bounced it off Oliver's head, and zig-zagged past the laughing tandem of Alicia and Angelina to shove it powerfully into the rightmost hoop. Oliver himself was rather surprised that she pulled that maneuver past him.

"Did you see that?" he pointed. "You should go pro, Ginny!"

"Thanks!" she called, laughing. "Now close your fat mouth, Wood, or you'll catch nargles!"

"Nargles?"

"Ask Luna Lovegood!"

Just then, two blurs of mismatched robes zoomed past her to a point none of them could determine. Charlie and Harry knocked each other to get to the Snitch, until Charlie's broom sputtered a little, and Harry grabbed the golden ball to seal the victory.

"We won!" Oliver hollered, embracing Alicia and Angelina in a hug that soon turned awkward.

The group separated, and the men all moved to shake hands. "We won," Oliver repeated softly to Katie, shaking her hand smugly

"Well, it wasn't because I was a poor Keeper," Katie pretended to huff.

"No," he agreed. "You're a Keeper, alright."

She smiled, slapping him lightly on the chest. That was the oldest - and worst - Quidditch joke in the book.

_"Are you all done? Dinner's ready!"_ Molly Weasley's Sonorus-ed voice boomed through the yard, and the Weasley gang raced inside.

"I'm hungry!"

"About time!"

"Let's go then," Oliver held out his hand. "Food waits for no man." Katie took it with a smile and walked in with him. But as they made to enter the threshold, they felt their feet lock into place.

The gang, already inside, grinned evilly at them. Unable to move, Katie didn't understand until Oliver looked up at the door's frame. Grinning, he swiftly stole a kiss, and whispered, "Mistletoe," ignoring everyone's hoots and catcalls.

Dinner for the most part went smoothly. Katie couldn't remember the last time she was in a room full of such boisterous, funny people. She laughed hard over Charlie and Bill's wild and far-fetched stories, and even over how Percy would deadpan over his very serious work with the Ministry. George shared how Ron was helping out at the joke shop, and Ginny bemoaned the fact that scout season was soon coming at Hogwarts. Oliver shared some of his tips and tricks, until Katie had to rein him in whenever he got a bit too excited. She couldn't help but notice, though, that Angelina and Alicia were both rather quiet on opposite ends of the table. Neither sat next to George, who was also far too silent next to Percy. This was something she didn't want to draw attention to until Arthur Weasley asked, "So, Alicia, my dear. We've all caught up well and good - what have you been up to lately?"

Alicia started for a moment upon everyone's scrutiny, and softly said, "Not much, Mr. Weasley. Just a bit of freelance writing here and there."

Katie could have sworn she heard George cough a little.

Bill interjected, "Research-related, I hope? Your paper on runic flight was really something, Leesh. I submitted it to my peers for evaluation, and you could really start a career with us if you wished."

Alicia blushed. "I, um, well, I've been more involved in sports journalism, actually. It's been really exciting."

"Oh! I hope your studies haven't been for nothing."

"Not at all," Alicia assured Bill. "I could return to it, maybe, someday. If I join the broom-making industry, for instance... Outdated, but it could be worth looking into..."

George only looked on impassively as Alicia began to babble, as did Angelina. Katie put down her utensils. "I'm really excited for the season to kick off in January. Alicia's following the Arrows, aren't you, Leesh?"

"Yeah, not just them. I've shadowed almost half the teams so far," her friend confirmed, suddenly more comfortable. Katie looked at her intently, but Alicia refused to meet her gaze.

After dinner, Oliver got up to take his leave. "It's been lovely, Weasleys," he said, and thanked them for their generous company. "Kates? Would you like to be escorted home?"

Katie looked at him, and then glanced back at her company. "You know, Ol, you go ahead."

He cocked his head. "If you're sure. Let me know when you get home, alright?"

She smiled at him, and he was off. "Leesh?" she turned back around. "A word?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review :) Chapter 21 up next week - no lies because... it's finished! :O**


	21. The List

**A/N: I didn't lie, I told you Chapter 21 was finished, and lo! Here she is. I appreciate the warm welcome back, undeserved as it was! Some of you commented on some weird formatting (wasn't me!) and minor math mistakes in the chapter previous, so I've gone back and corrected them. Thanks! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21 - The List<strong>

Katie returned home from the Burrow that night partly happy, partly concerned. Happy because Oliver and her friends had a fantastic time together, and because it seemed that Ange and Alicia were on good, if still awkward terms. But her conversation with Alicia continued to niggle at the back of her mind a week later:

_"So, how's your team shadowing gig really treating you?" Katie asked as soon as they had a minute alone. "Find anything out that you'd like to tell your best friend? Weaknesses I can exploit, perhaps?" she winked._

_"None of that, Katie Bell. Play fair. What would Oliver say?"_

_"Oliver would say, 'TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW!'"_

_Alicia laughed. "I'm enjoying the work, truly. Most teams have been a lot of fun to cover. Not to mention very easy on the eyes. I've got a few fan girl photographs, and I guess it's the next best thing to playing."_

_"And Kai?"_

_"Kai? He's good, I think." Alicia smiled into her mug of chocolate. "He owls sometimes."_

_"About what?" Katie grinned._

_"Work stuff, coffee invite here and there..."_

_"That's so great! Ugh, he is dreamy."_

_"He's just lonely, being an import and all. I'm keeping things professional, you know. There's just a lot going on."_

_"Like?"_

_"I just told you!"_

_"You've told me nothing. I know you, don't think you've been gone long enough that I can't tell when you're hiding something. Also give yourself some credit. You're gorgeous, and I think Kai knows that too. He has eyes, you know. Big, sea blue ones..."_

_"Oh, Katie, you know I can't go around assuming - or spreading rumors, for that matter, before they're backed by anything substantial."_

_"Rumors? Have you found something out with those Extendable Ears George gave you?"_

_"The industry is very small, you know. Any leaked information could be traceable... back to me!"_

_"I'm not going to mail Rita Skeeter if you tell me," Katie huffed._

_"I know. And I trust you. But I don't know that the intel I have is sound. And I've acquired most of it from eavesdropping, but I don't know if I've pieced it together properly. At least, not yet."_

_"Is this about the trades? How did you even manage to listen in on these conversations?"_

_Alicia checked about them to ensure no one was listening. "It was a matter of luck and timing, really. After I did my job shadowing the players, I stuck around a bit near the offices. Never mind how I did it... but I've got a list."_

_"Of... Dates? Names?"_

_"Yeah. It's my list, really. Of names I've collected. So far key players - Greg Cotton, Fin Quigley, Aladair Maddock... Lenny Campbell, even. People their teams would never _dream_ of trading off, but for some reason, putting these players out of their lineups is being discussed. Like, I heard the Magpies' management say they wanted to bench Maddock. Maddock!"_

_"But that makes no sense! He's their star player! Was he part of the trade deal? Is this still about the trades?"_

_Alicia paused for a beat. "Do _not _tell Oliver, okay, Katie? I really -"_

_"I won't," Katie began._

_"I could get into serious trouble for this." Alicia waited until Katie nodded before she continued. "Right. As you know, I got wind of this at the Gala, when I heard some rumors about big switch-ups in the new season. So I've managed to eavesdrop on a few separate franchise management teams discussing certain... demands, I think? Not all the teams I shadowed, but some. I don't know if they've been in touch with one another. But they're seriously discussing adjusting their lineups. They were talking trades, or terminations, or pay-outs. To what end, I'm still uncertain."_

_"And is my team a part of this? Or Puddlemere?"_

_Alicia shrugged. "Not that I've heard. But it seems to me - I can't really say, but my first guess is that somebody wields a lot of power over the League. Because I don't think they're internal initiatives. At the very least, it could be a serious request from outside, and it's a big enough deal that these teams need to address it. But I don't think they're going to take these requests seriously."_

_"What do you mean? The Commission is the only authority I know of, besides individual owners. They wouldn't do something like this. Especially if they won't profit from it." Katie began pacing. "Is someone trying to buy players out? I don't think that's even feasible this close to the kick-off of the season proper. It's too late to make impractical changes as that -"_

_"That's a good point. From the fighting I've overheard, nobody actually wants to let their star players go."_

_"It's idiotic. What if... they're being coerced? But by whom?"_

_"I haven't figured it out either, okay? This is why I didn't want to tell you. But at the same time I know you won't leave me alone about it. Also, I'm afraid that if this is really a thing, you or Ol might get affected somehow. Directly or otherwise."_

_"Is there anything I can do to help?"_

_"Not that I know. I'm hardly inclined to write an exposé on the matter... yet. I don't think anyone else at the Prophet is aware of anything. I mean, the article mention was just to stir up some controversy, but I felt it was worth investigating. I was only supposed to make write-ups - PR, really, on these teams. I'm just such a snoop. It could be nothing. I don't even think these teams have alerted the authorities."_

_"Wait. The authorities? The Ministry could get involved?" Katie asked incredulously. "You think it could get that bad?"_

_Alicia shrugged, choosing not to divulge more._

_"Leesh, be careful. What if you get in trouble?"_

_"Let's hope not, yeah?"_

_"You should stop."_

_"What, and miss out?"_

_"Don't put yourself in danger. Just let it play out. Think of it this way. If anything happens, you at least have a head start. I'll let you know if I find anything out, but until then, just stick with your shadowing gig, yeah?"_

_"I suppose you're right."_

Katie had sworn to keep things quiet, but she was dying to know what was going on. Especially if her team or Oliver's was involved somehow. Christmas had come and gone - she'd spent with her parents, and snuck some time in with Oliver. But that was before he visited his folks in Scotland, and she'd only gotten a note that morning that he was back. In all that time, she still had not learned anything new. She'd seen neither hair nor hide of Lara recently, and Coach King did not deign to talk about anything outside their training agenda. She hadn't discussed a thing with Oliver either, but it was getting more and more difficult to bite her tongue.

With the holiday break giving pause to their training sessions, she was veritably going mad with secrets to keep and nothing to do about them. The house elves had sensed her ennui, and had gone so far as to voluntarily choreograph an interpretative dance routine that involved simultaneously tossing china, polishing Quaffles, and banging upon cooking pots. She was not certain if she was more amused or alarmed that they'd gone to such creative lengths to entertain her. This is why she decided she'd bother Bruna, who had come back the night before from her yuletide vacation in Germany.

"Hi, Bru!" Katie barged in on the Keeper, who fortunately had just finished getting dressed.

"Gah!" Bruna whirled around. "You startled me."

"Sorry. How was home?"

"I, er, it was nice, we had some, uh." Bruna fumbled with the clasp on her skirt.

"You alright, Bru?" Katie asked. "Did I come at a bad time?"

"Not at all!" Bruna flushed. Katie frowned at her frazzled teammate. Bruna smoothed her dress nervously and said, "I'm actually glad you're here. I don't know what I've done, Katie. I've gone and introduced Sean to my family over the hols."

"Whoa, what!"

"I'm an idiot. It was a snap decision... he took a Portkey, stopped by for lunch, and uh."

"Uh?"

"They loved him. Arse over tit for the bastard."

"Bru, that's great!" Katie beamed at her. But when Bruna only grimaced, she backtracked. "So what's the matter?"

"I've just got a date. With Sean."

"And that's a bad thing because...?"

"It's not, not really." Bruna took a breath. "He wants me to meet her tonight. Beatrice."

Katie gasped. "Wow! Well... It's only fair, I guess."

"I guess." Bruna echoed. "But it's different. Parents... they're people we grow up and away from. A serious relationship is just one of those things that they'd have to accept as part of that process. But kids? His daughter is a part of him. We've only been serious again for what, two months? And she's so young, still. I'm so nervous. If she and I don't connect... it's make or break, Katie. What if... I botch it up? I've never really had to deal with kids-"

"Oh, Bru." Katie put her hands on her rambling friend's arms and gave her a light shake. "Oliver's told me about her. She sounds like an amazing child. And if you want it, too, then I think there's nothing you should be afraid of. You _are_ ready. And don't forget: if you add it all up, you've been together for quite a while."

Bruna pondered this. "Hey, Katie? I wouldn't ask if it didn't mean a lot to me. You're great with Vanna's boys, so... Would you maybe come along with me to meet her? Beatrice, I mean."

Katie took a moment and said, "I'd be glad to. Was she going to come with you, though?"

"No," Bruna admitted sheepishly. "It's more of a meet and greet. I'm terrified that if I stay too long, then something will inevitably go wrong."

"Negativity doesn't suit you, Bru."

"Please, Kates. If things go well... well, at least Sean and I can talk about tomorrow's plans over dinner."

"So if she's not coming along on your date, did you want me to watch her?"

"Oh, but that's the best part! Sean's asked Wood to babysit."

_Perfect!_

* * *

><p>"Wood. I need you to babysit for me."<p>

"What?" Oliver looked up from polishing his beloved broom. He'd done a meticulous job of drying it and coating it with the Moroccan Whizzbee wax Katie had given him to protect it from the elements. A broom, he could care for. But a child? "Is that why you agreed to go flying with me today? Child care is not exactly my area of expertise."

"I did you a favor out of the kindness of my heart. Now see here, Wood," Flanner begain somberly. "I've witnessed you handle Phil and Neil when they threatened to brawl over peanuts. I've even seen you wrench Dora off tabletops a few times when she was piss drunk. If that doesn't qualify you to wrangle raging Hippogriffs, I think it at least warrants you some trust in the baby girl department. I want Bruna to meet her tonight before our date, but my mum's busy for afterwards. I already told Bru it was taken care of."

Oliver snorted. Assuming berk. "Aren't I honored, then."

"Come on! Bea adores you. All you need to do is feed her dinner and tuck her in bed. She doesn't even need a story! I promise we'll be home early."

"So you're doing it. The, um. It."

"Is that a yes?"

Oliver sighed. "Alright, mate. The things I do for you."

"I _LOVE _you!" Flanner planted a triumphant kiss on Oliver's cheek and stepped out the door. "Be at my place at seven!"

"Say please," Oliver hollered at his retreating form.

"Please, and thank you, and belated Happy Christmas!"

* * *

><p>"Do I look okay?" Bruna twirled in her delicate green dress.<p>

"Bru, you look gorgeous." Katie was decidedly more dressed down in a simple short skirt, a sweater, and thermal tights.

"Where's everyone headed tonight?" Wilda poked her head into Bruna's dressing room.

"You won't like it, lady!" Katie replied indulgently.

"Is it a party? I filched some bourbon from my fat cousin's holiday stash!" Wilda waved the bottle excitedly and screwed the cap off.

"No can do," Katie laughed. "We're off to meet Sean Flanner's baby. Wanna come?"

"What? Yick," Wilda immediately wrinkled her nose.

"Katie!" Bruna grit out. "Wilds, don't tell anyone."

"Who'm I gonna tell? I don't want any part of that. In fact, count me out. Good luck, though." She took a swig from her bottle. "Later."

Bruna waitched Wilda's retreating form wistfully. "Easy for her to say."

"She's already half sloshed, don't listen to her. I'm sure you'll be great." Katie squeezed her hand. "Beatrice will love you, you'll see." The girls put their coats on and reached for the Portkey. "Ready? One, two, three."

* * *

><p>"Now baby, there's somebody really important that I want you to meet tonight." Flanner fussed over his daughter's pajamas as Oliver looked on mildly. Sean was clearly nervous, and he made up for it by straightening every wrinkle he could find on his toddler's clothing.<p>

"She looks perfect, mate," Oliver reassured him. "Geyser's going to adore her."

"What's Geyser?" asked Beatrice.

Flanner took a steadying breath. "Well, darling, after you, she's the girl Daddy loves the most."

"More than Quidditch too?" the child surveyed. Flanner affirmed this as fact. "You must love her a whole lot."

Flanner looked at her, and could only nod. Oliver could swear he'd seen Flanner's eyes glisten a little, but he looked away so it wouldn't be weird. "It's almost seven," he commented.

"So it is. Well, baby? Would that be okay with you?" Flanner asked. Beatrice giggled and gave him a thumbs up. "There's my number one girl. I love you."

"I love you, Daddy." She high fived him with both her tiny hands.

Just then a knock sounded on the door. "Uh, coming!" Flanner set Bea down on the counter beside Oliver, smoothed his hair, and opened the door. "Bruna."

"Hello, Sean," she murmured, letting him kiss her lightly on the lips.

"And hello, Katie." Flanner took her hand and kissed it, too.

"Kates - Katie?" Oliver called from inside. He walked out to greet her. "What are you doing here?" He took her in his embrace and kissed her warmly on the cheek. He pulled back when he realized they were being watched.

Bruna and Sean wore identical smirks on their faces. "This is weird, huh?" Sean asked, looping his arm around Bruna's waist.

"Trust me," she laughed softly. "I've seen much worse."

"Who's she?" a little voice piped up. The four adults looked down at the little blonde girl standing in the living room.

Momentarily dumbstruck, Sean ushered everyone in. "Where are my manners? Bruna," he took a deep breath. "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Beatrice. Bea? This is the lady I told you about. She's very important to me. Her name is Bruna. Bruna Geyser."

A look of strong emotion came over Bruna's face. Katie squeezed Oliver's hand. She could easily see that Bruna was immediately besotted with the child. Bruna bent down, and, looking to Sean for encouragement, stretched her hand out. "It's very nice to meet you. Your dad talks about you all the time." Bea took the child's hand in her own.

"She's really pretty, Daddy," the child whispered, not averting her gaze. Bruna looked like she might cry.

"Thank you. You're really pretty too, Beatrice." To Flanner, she mouthed, _"She's perfect, Sean."_

He only nodded, heart in his throat.

"I'm Bea."

"Well, Bea," Bruna's voice wavered, "I'd love to stay and get to know you, but you're all ready for bed. Sean?"

"Perhaps New Year's?" He looked hopeful. "Would you like that, darling?"

"Yes!" cheered Beatrice.

"New Year's then," agreed Bruna, giving Sean a meaningful look. "Bea, I'd like you to meet my friend. This is Katie. She'll be taking care of you tonight."

Bea looked up at Katie, and then at Oliver, whose hand rested lightly on her back. "It's your lady love!" she cried delightedly, making her father laugh.

"Sorry, I may have taught her that," Flanner smirked at Katie. "Baby, Bruna and I are going out to have dinner. You stay here with Uncle Oliver and..." he looked at Katie, "Do you mind if she calls you 'Auntie'?"

"Katie's fine," she laughed. "But you can call me anything you want," Katie told Beatrice.

"Aunt Katie," giggled Beatrice.

"Alright," Flanner concluded. "Don't you give Uncle Oliver and Aunt Katie a difficult time, okay? Bedtime is at?"

"Eight-thirty," Oliver answered. "Dinner's on the table. I've got an owl in case I need to reach you."

"Perfect."

"You've only told me about a hundred times."

"Thanks, mate. I owe you." Flanner took Bruna's hand, gave Beatrice a big, sloppy kiss, and Disapparated away with his date.

* * *

><p>As Oliver got a little flame going in the hearth, Katie entered the living room Levitating two steaming mugs of tea and a smaller mug of warm, spiced milk. They'd just finished an easy dinner, over which they discussed their respective holidays with their families. Now the two were in the process of getting Bea into bed. "For you," she handed the toddler her milk. "I hope you like cinnamon!"<p>

"Mmm," Bea sipped it, happy as could be.

"Are you tired yet?" Katie asked as she handed Oliver his mug. Oliver pulled her down on his lap, which was his favorite place to have her these days. Bea shook her head. "But it's past your bedtime!"

"I'm waiting for Daddy and Bruna," she said stubbornly. "Is Bruna going to be my mommy?"

Katie and Oliver exchanged looks. "You know," Oliver replied, "You could ask your father tomorrow. Do you want to play a game before bed?"

"Mmm, no. Sometimes Daddy lets me show him gymnastics." Then Bea said, "I'm too full. You gymnastics."

"Well," Oliver said wickedly, "Katie does something like gymnastics. It's called yoga."

"Captain," Katie warned.

"Show me!" Bea pressed.

Katie sighed, kicking her shoes off. "Alright, let's try it out." She assumed a standing position with her hands clasped before her. Beatrice stood beside her like a miniature Katie, copying her every move.

Katie swung her hands over her head, and swept them down to touch her toes. "Okay, now we're gonna step out like so," she kicked her feet out to a plank position. "And if you can, do a little pushup." The toddler giggled as she tried to imitate her. "That's pretty good!"

Oliver grinned lazily as he watched the two interact. Katie was so at ease around Bea, and he guessed she was great with kids in general. It was certainly too early for them to consider it, but...

"Do it, Uncle Oliver!" Bea called. Their heads were hanging between their arms, their hands planted on the ground, and their bottoms in the air and facing him.

"I'm not very bendy!" he apologized.

"Because he's stiff as a board. 'Cause he's Wood, get it?" Katie cackled. The joke was lost on the child.

"Besides," Oliver added, "The view is much nicer from here." He winked at Katie. "Alright there, Bell?"

"Shut it, Captain," Katie laughed, and she guided Beatrice through a couple more poses before the child sat down and proclaimed, "I'm tired."

"There she is," clapped Oliver, "Let's get you to bed." He picked Bea up and headed to her room. Katie straightened out her clothing before following them. She stood in the doorway, and watched.

"So what does your dad usually do when he tucks you in?" Oliver asked.

"Night light," Bea pointed at the lamp beside them. Oliver flicked his wand. "And then?"

"Daddy checks under my bed for scary things."

Oliver gamely followed suit. "Nothing here," he assured her.

"And then he shuts my windows."

"Check. What next?"

"Then he tucks me in and gives me a kiss." Oliver made her laugh by tucking the blanket into her sides, making her look like a Mexican burrito. "Like this?" he asked.

"No, Uncle Oliver!" she giggled. "Silly!"

"As long as you're warm. Now good night," he said, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. She stopped his face with one small hand.

"Kiss is for Aunt Katie." She pointed at the doorway.

Katie blushed at having been caught watching. "Hmmm, maybe you can have just one," she played along.

"One it is," Oliver agreed, and gave Beatrice a big smooch on the cheek. "Good night, Bea."

"Good night," she yawned, and turned over to sleep.

Katie yawned too as Oliver came to join her and shut the door. "You're really good at this," she complimented him. "It's kind of sexy."

"You too, actually." He intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled her close. "We make a great team."

"Now I feel like I need to be tucked in," Katie murmured as she swung her legs over Oliver's as he got comfy on Flanner's couch.

"That can be arranged." He pulled the throw off the seat and enveloped them both within it.

"That's nice."

"Mm," he agreed, tracing circles on the small of her back.

Katie opened an eyelid and stared into the flame. "Say, Ol?"

"Yeah?"

"When does your practice resume?"

"Tomorrow, we've got training til the end of the year."

"Same here, then we'll have New Year's free."

"Why do you ask? Got something in mind?"

"Not really. I'm just not looking forward to it."

"You take that back, young lady, because now's not the time to be messing around." he snickered into her hair. "Season resumes on the third. And then I don't know when I'll see you next. Regardless, no lollygagging."

She poked him. "You aren't the boss of me. And for that, you shall commence the neck kisses."

He ignored her, teasing, "Nuh-uh. I should just tell your Coach about us. She'll show you who's boss."

"Ha ha. You wouldn't. Otherwise you'd really never see me again."

"Fair enough. I won't do it. But what's the matter?" He leaned in. "Winter's the _absolute." _Kiss._ "Best." _Kiss. "Season for training."

"Nice try, I know you hate it, too. I was just beginning to enjoy the peace of the holidays. And tomorrow seems too soon to get back to all the catfights."

"You aren't on bad terms with anyone, are you?" Oliver pulled back, concern etched on his features.

"No, no. You always assume the worst, Captain," Katie assuaged him. "But Wilda and Gwen have been at each other's necks for some time now. I can't say I'm excited to go back to being the victim of their - or Coach King's - misplaced wrath."

"Mm, I understand that. Nolan's had it in for Davies, too."

"But that's because Davies is a ponce. I rather thought Wilds and Gwen cared more about the team to let their differences interfere with our performance."

"Heh, women. Ow!" Oliver rubbed his chest from where Katie had smacked him hard.

"Now you take that back."

"You're not giving me much incentive, love," Oliver smirked. "Only joking. I haven't got much basis, you know. We've only got Dora, and she's the type of woman they name hurricanes after. If we traded her for, say, Griffiths, I don't know if we lads would be better off."

"Hah," Katie agreed. "As if that would ever happen." A beat. "Wait. Would you, though?"

"Would I?"

"Trade Fairfax for Wilds? Hypothetically."

Oliver tilted his head for a moment. "Y'know, now that you mention it, Griffiths wouldn't be a bad fit. I'll tell Phil Deverill immediately."

Katie furrowed a brow. "So it could happen?"

Oliver looked at her skeptically. "I was only joking. This deep into training? That's a big investment in the lineup we're practically throwing out. And besides, if there's anyone I'd trade Fairfax out for - and I don't even have the power to do that yeah? - I'd really rather have you," he said. She briefly toyed with the idea of asking him if he knew anything about the list Alicia mentioned, but then he started kissing her neck as she previously demanded. "I'm tired of talking Quidditch," he declared.

"Well, _that's_ a first! Wait 'til the others hear."

"I'm sure they'll have a field day." He ran his fingers languidly over her stockinged legs, and right when Katie thought he'd reach beneath her skirt, he'd shift down towards her knees again. It was maddening.

She turned her head to claim his lips, and coaxed his teasing hand up her jumper. Oliver was always, always a gentleman, and while they'd previously agreed to take things slow for the sake of their careers, she wanted to feel that he was having just as difficult a time containing himself as she was. Was that so selfish?

She was beginning to feel the stirrings of both her arousal and his when thankfully (or not, depends how one looked at it), the Floo chimed. Cursing internally, she quickly moved off his lap to sit beside him instead.

"That'll be Flanner," said Oliver, clearing his throat as the blaze let Sean and Bruna into the living room. "You're early," he greeted the pair. "We just put Beatrice to bed."

"Well, _that _was an hour late. You're a bad influence, Wood," Flanner shook his hand. "I hope she wasn't much trouble?"

"Not at all. But as you can see, Katie here is tuckered out."

Katie rested her head on his shoulder, feigning fatigue. "You two have a good time?"

Bruna and Sean beamed at each other. And then Bruna took her hand from her coat pocket. On her finger was a gigantic diamond ring. "We're getting married!"

"WHAT!" Katie cried, tossing the throw off her body. She ran over to inspect the ring, and then embraced Bruna. "Congratulations!" They jumped around giddily.

Oliver shook Flanner's hand. "Well done, mate."

"Wait." Katie whirled around and slapped Oliver on the chest. "You knew?"

Oliver merely shrugged.

"Good man," Flanner grinned.

Bruna sniffled, tears threatening to fall. "I saw Beatrice tonight and I just... I hadn't even known her for five seconds but I knew we'd be okay. And I told Sean as much, and... Oh, Katie, I'm so happy!"

"And I wanted to propose before the season," interjected Sean. "Who knows when I would have had the time then? Not to mention, when Puddlemere creams Holyhead in the second round -"

"As if I would have said no," Bruna smiled at him.

"As if you'll beat us next time," Katie stuck her tongue out at the men. She turned to Bruna. "Tell me all about it tomorrow! Wait. How are you going to tell Coach?"

"Oh, hang Coach King! For now this is our secret, alright?"

"Witch's oath!"

"Well, Wood," Flanner clapped Oliver on the shoulder. "My _fiancée_ and I are going to call it a night. Tomorrow we're visiting my parents with Bea. Might you escort your lovely lady home?"

"What about your clothes?" Katie asked.

"I already have a change of clothes here," Bruna admitted, blushing.

They said their goodbyes, and Oliver closed his hand around Katie's as they Apparated away.

"This is awesome," Katie sighed as they entered her bungalow together. She locked the door behind her and padded to her bedroom.

"They're a good fit," Oliver agreed, "And Beatrice has been longing for a mother figure. Bruna's perfect."

"I'm glad."

"So Kates," Oliver cleared his throat, following her into her room. She moved past him again and into her bathroom to clean up.

"Yeah?"

"You know the season resumes on the third, right?"

"Mmhmm?" She stuck a toothbrush in her mouth.

"I was wondering if you wanted to watch our first game. Pride of Portree."

"An' pick u' aww your thecreth? You thure?"

"And the Prides', as many as you'd like."

"Meaghang MgGormag'h a mean Keeperh. But not as duff as you." She rinsed.

"Who are you calling duff?" Oliver pretended to scoff.

"I meant 'tough'. But tickets are expensive, Ol," she tutted playfully.

"I'll get you some, of course. Best seats in the house."

"But the tabloids -"

"Glamours work, don't they?"

"And my training -"

"Your first game isn't til the sixth."

"What if I have practice?"

"At seven in the evening? Unlikely."

"How do you know all that? Stalker!" Katie stepped out of the bathroom all freshened up, and padded over to where he'd made himself comfortable on the bed.

"Avid fan," he corrected, placing his hands on her waist, his new favorite spot. His eyes then shifted from her face down to the slinky material that covered her torso. He had to stifle a moan. "This is new."

"Do you approve? It was a present from Miss Raul. Pajamas, he said."

"Stretched definition, I think. Was it a present to you? Or to me?"

"Well, I think we've both been very good lately."

"And would you have me stay to unwrap this?"

Katie grabbed her wand, and shuttered the windows and doors. "There's no way Bruna can barge in tonight. And this teddy's not very winter appropriate."

"I knew it. You just want me for my warm body."

"Pretty much," Katie laughed. "You in?"

Oliver looked down at his attire and transfigured his jeans to a much more suitable pair of flannel pants. "Let's do this cuddle business." He walked up to her and leaned in, and then marched past her before she could kiss him.

"Where are you going!"

"To get cleaned up, Kates," he chuckled at her flabbergasted expression. "Hygiene first." He made quick work of it, and came back out of the bathroom to find Katie sitting on her bed.

She got into her bed and joked, "So will you tuck me in again?"

Oliver flicked his wand and dimmed her lights. He got down to her floor. "Nothing scary under the bed."

"I would hope not."

"Just a few menacing dust bunnies."

"Don't insult the house elves. Bootsy would die of shame."

He climbed onto Katie's bed, moving his body over hers and leaning her back onto her pillows. Nestling himself between her thighs, he asked, "Tucked in, nice and warm?"

Katie moaned in approval, feeling his hardness grinding against her. "Where's my kiss?"

"Just one," Oliver compromised, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Okay, maybe another." He touched her lips with his. Again, and again, and again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Contemplating an M rating. You gotta let me know if you want it! Please review! :)**


	22. The Bubble is Burst

**A/N: Thinking a lot of disjointed things right now, thus I must use numbers:**

**1. Just need to share: I'm feeling really bummed about Robin Williams, and about Lauren Bacall. The world lost two really good ones, yeah? RIP.**

**2. Perhaps inappropriately (after what I've just said), F, guys. I think I've found my Oliver. Theo James, anybody? Clean shaven. In a white T-shirt. Or a sweater. Or with no shirt. Hot damn. Hot. Damn. He looks just like how I imagine widdle movie canon Oliver Wood would/should have matured into the Unwilling Quidditch Hunk we all know and love.**

**3. Also, thanks for all your awesome feedback on the last chapter! All of your kind words and constructive criticism never fail to make me smile :) Shout-out in particular to MelodyPond77, pandagods, Columbia R0se, and Elara Perry - thanks for the long and helpful reviews. Sean, Bruna, and Bea are rather dear to me, after Katie and Oliver, of course. Just to answer a question: Bruna in my head is around 25/26 years old. And for all you readers worried about it, I've decided against the M rating... for now. I've come to think of AWOC (lol can I call it that yet?) as a TV series-like thing with episodes, and writing few extra moments here and there is something I enjoy. So if I do come out with something M-rated for this fic's universe, it will likely be a separate, extra, optional story. How's that for a compromise? :)**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22 - The Bubble is Burst<strong>

"Are you sure it's gonna hold?" Katie reached a hand up to tug at an invisible line at her jaw. "It feels too big!" She looked about self-consciously as she and Alicia made their way up to the viewing box. Thanks to the glamour, her hair was now a deep shade of brown, and her nose was larger, more Italian. It felt bizarre, to say the least.

"Quite sure. It's not even really there! It's just heavy air. Now stop touching!" Alicia slapped her hand away. "Glamours aren't very comfortable at first. Yours'll probably feel like a second skin in the next half hour."

"But -"

Alicia tsked exasperatedly. "You know, now that you're on the brink of Britain-wide recognition, it would do you some good to get used to disguises. D'you want to see this game or not?"

Katie shut up, knowing Alicia was right. It had taken enough effort just trying to get to Scotland undetected, let alone leave Wales!

"So you got out of practice no problem?"

"I wouldn't say that." Though the Harpies had finished practice early that day, their casual locker room meeting afterwards seemed to drag on endlessly. She excused herself under the pretense of having to answer fan mail, of which there wasn't much yet. Bruna had plastered a neutral expression on her face, but Wilda and a few others shot her knowing looks that she ignored as she retreated hastily. Feeling the heat of Gwen's and Coach King's stares, she did not dare look back.

"But you didn't ask permission, either."

"No. I would get skinned alive if they knew about Oliver! They don't even know about Bruna and Sean Flanner - well, not _really_."

"I don't see what the big deal is. You've already been covered in the news."

"Gossip news."

"You're all grown-up professionals."

"Grown-up professionals with brand identities to protect in public. Harpies? Puddlemere? _E-ne-mies._"

"What's the basis?"

Katie shrugged. "General man-hating? It kind of just _is_."

"Convincing," Alicia drawled. "Truly."

They walked into the viewing box, which was decked out in garish purple and gold. The Prides were known for being ostentatious, and Katie was thankful that her disguise covered the look of distaste she was certain was on her face.

"A bit tawdry," Alicia remarked, eyeing a showy chandelier hanging in the entryway.

"It's like Gilderoy Lockhart threw up in here," Katie snickered. "All this brocade!" But what the box lacked in taste, it made up for in its warmth and its position in the stadium. VIPs and their guests had what was undoubtedly the best view, situated just above the hoops' level, and by the center area of the well-lit pitch, which was fortunately clear of snow. Just below them was the box assigned to Puddlemere's coaching staff, and across from them was the Prides' own VIP and coaching boxes, respectively.

"Thank you, Mr. Wood," breathed Alicia as they took two cushy seats. A snack attendant offered them hot chocolate with marshmallows, and caramel-coated popcorn. "How'd you two spend New Year's, by the way? I decided to stay with my family instead of attending the Weasleys' bash. Did you go?"

"Oh, no. You'd understand," Katie peered into her mug. "We both couldn't afford to get hammered and all shagged out so close to the season opening. So we just had a quiet little New Year's Eve celebration."

Alicia snorted. "Oh, please. Celebration? Rendezvous, more like. Don't deny it, you're totally in the googly-eyed, bubble stage."

"Bubble stage?"

"You know, when a new couple's _so_ besotted with one another, and they can't go anywhere or do anything without each other, and spend all their free time gazing into each other's eyes and hunting for all sorts of creative ways and places to snog -"

"Whoa!" Katie felt slightly embarrassed. How did Alicia even _know_? "Give us a bit more credit. We prioritize our _careers_," she said, though it came out slightly rehearsed, like she was trying to convince herself, too. She lowered her voice. "I mean, it's Oliver we're talking about. _Oliver_. He's not your average hormonal male."

"And you're not just the _average hormonal female_," Alicia mock-whispered back. "I've said it a thousand times. You're his Kates. Gods, everyone with eyes knows he's always had it bad for you. He is _so_ in love -"

"Shut it, Leesh," Katie blushed, fighting down the weird twitterpated feeling in her chest. "He hasn't even _said... _you know. _That_."

"But that doesn't mean it isn't true. Wood might not say much by way of endearments, but I'm sure you know it." Alicia wore a smug grin on her face. "You've told me he's very expressive in _other ways_."

Katie laughed then, only deigning to say, "I certainly don't have any complaints. And for all his - well, _our_ - inexperience, it's been... Yeah. Oliver's not a fantastic athlete because he has a slow learning curve, you know."

"Then aren't you a lucky _cow_!" Alicia teased, delighted.

_"Shh,"_ Katie hissed suddenly. "Deverill's over there." The Puddlemere manager had entered the box, and was nervously making small talk with his rotund companion, whom Katie did not recognize. She didn't like how she could smell the lady's perfume from where they sat, a good three meters away. "Did you bring your Extendable Ears?"

Alicia tittered sheepishly. "Yeah."

"Give them here." Alicia surrendered her stash, groaning, "But don't you know the person he's talking to?"

"No, should I?"

"That's Priscilla Prigg, their head of PR. You told me once that Oliver hated her."

Katie took her in thoughtfully. "Yeah. From how he described her, I always imagined she'd look like Umbridge. Remind me to congratulate Ol on his excellent choice of adjectives."

"Ha! You're lucky she can't recognize you. Then you'd see her similarities with Umbridge go beyond merely the physical."

"You've met her?"

"She's a right cow. Gossipy as they come." The lights dimmed then, as the commentators greeted the excited crowd in their magically amplified voices. A big brass band began to play lively music, and the horns, cymbals, and drumbeats echoed throughout the stadium.

"Here we go!" Katie shoved some popcorn into her mouth.

_"What a way to kick off the new year, ladies and gentlemen! It's cold and it's damp but we sure hope you're toasty in your seats!" _a voice Katie knew to be Noah Winsome's boomed.

_"Leave it to the Pride of Portree to be the ever-gracious hosts." _proclaimed his long-time co-host, Jimmy Dunifer.

_"It's downright _freezing_ today. Apart from trying to play against each other, our players will be in a battle versus the elements: the cold, the snow, the wind! It's lucky for us that the storm hasn't set in, but who knows?"_

_"Merlin! But special circumstances call for special schedules."_

_"I agree with you a hundred percent, Jim! Quidditch in the dead of winter? Why the hell not, if we're warm and dry where we sit?"_

_"I really don't envy these players, mate. Wouldn't want to lose a body part to frostbite," _Jimmy laughed with an obnoxious amount of cheer._ "But you know what they say, a trial by ice is as good as a trial by fire."_

_"Who said that?"_

_"I don't know, Noah, but it sounded good to say. You know what else sounds good? Tonight's toss-up! On our first night of the regular season we've got our fan favorites, Puddlemere United, back and looking for blood. After their loss to the Holyhead Harpies in October, their captain, Sean Flanner, told me that they've done their homework. The Prides better be ready."_

_"Don't be so sure. The Pride of Portree return this year with their fierce veteran Keeper and Captain, Meaghan McCormack, at the helm. From her friendlies stats it looks as if she's performing better than ever, averaging 71% saves, up from the other year's 66%. Is it possible she's only growing better with age? She looks to be encroaching on young Oliver Wood's stellar numbers!"_

_"Aye, the lad's outstanding, but let's not forget his unusually sub-par performance at the opener! Still remarkable by Keepers' standards, but he seems to have had some warming up to do!" _Noah continued, _"But Puddlemere had someone to be proud of in their last game. One Isadora Fairfax!"_

_"Yes, the lovely Dora. Rose among the thorns, eh? Our English Rose was the last game's highest scorer."_

_"Against Bruna Geyser, at that. Maybe she was the only one on that Chaser lineup who was impervious to Geyser's charm."_

_"Yes indeed, but I do think she'll have her work cut out for her tonight. She and all of Puddlemere."_

_"To be sure. It'll be a race against time - and against the Prides' stellar Seeker, Dougal McBride."_

_"Fans were glad to learn he decided to stay on another three years after his contract ended in the fall - not for lack of other options, though!"_

_"Yes, the Pride of Portree would not be the same without him. It's his lightning fast reflexes against Benjy Williams' wiles and keen eye for the Snitch: who's it gonna be?"_

A rumble sounded through the stadium and the lights flashed onto the pitch. The crowd got up on their feet as the match emcee bellowed, "_LADIES AND GENTLEMAN. ARE YOU READY! GIVE IT UP FOR PUDDLEMERE UUUUUUNITEEEEED! FLANNER! FAIRFAX! DAVIES! WOOD! BORODIN! WISON! AAAAAAAND WILLIAMS!_"

Katie and Alicia whooped in their seats as the Boys in Blue shot out of the box below them and flew a lap around the pitch at breakneck speed. Before they took their places by the center of the ring, Oliver glanced at their box. Alicia flailed her arms, while Katie gave a little wave. Oliver spared her a small eyebrow wiggle before turning back around.

"He knows it's you," Alicia poked her.

"He'd better," Katie laughed and resisted the urge to touch her weird new nose again.

"_AND NOW! YOUR HOMETOOOOOWN HEROES! GET OFF YOUR SEATS FOR MCCORMACK! BROMLEY! DEAN! MORE! STARLIN! VINTO! AAAAND MCBRIDE!"_

The home crowd cheered fiercely and waved purple flags as their team zoomed out from the box opposite them. Katie felt a surge of adrenaline as the captains shook hands and the referee made to release the balls...

* * *

><p>"Go! Go! Go!" Flanner bellowed as Portree took first possession.<p>

_"AND WE'RE OFF! IT'S BROMLEY WITH THE QUAFFLE," _the announcer boomed. "_A RACE TO THE GOALS AGAINST PUDDLEMERE!"_

"Bollocks," Oliver cursed as he raced the opposing Chasers through the icy wind to the goals. Davies made to block their Center Chaser, Bromley, as Fairfax swiped for the crimson sphere. Her attempt was unsuccessful, but she and Davies bought Oliver enough time to reach the scoring area before the Prides' squad did. Turning his broom sharply, he narrowed his gaze at Bromley, who still held the Quaffle. Leaning low, he quickly assessed their Chaser formation. Bromley was blocked from passing on both sides by Puddlemere, and his flankers, More and Dean, raced ahead to open up and receive a pass. Bromley punted it over Davies' head to More, who attempted to punch it into the rightmost hoop.

_"OLIVER WOOD IN THE NICK OF TIME!"_ bellowed the announcer as Oliver made the save, and quickly inbounded the Quaffle to Flanner. The home crowd booed, but he reveled in the moment, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Placing a steadying hand on the cool wood of the center hoop, he assessed the pitch. Williams was warming his hands, scoping for the Snitch above the playing zone. Wilson and Borodin, booming with fog-laced laughter, had easily taken control of the Bludgers. He looked for the Prides' Seeker, McBride, and upon spotting him, tried to signal to Neil to get going. Nodding, the Beater made first crack at the Seeker. The fans screamed, and the Bludger whizzed past McBride's head by half a meter. McBride turned to glare at Borodin, who had already gone on to knock elbows with the opposing Beater to go after the free Bludger. It would probably take a few tries, Oliver reasoned, but they were doing the right thing.

Oliver turned his attention back to his Chaser lineup, who were in a scuffle for possession at midfield. One of the Prides had made a grab for the ball, and it was trading hands more quickly than he could see.

_"DEAN WITH THE QUAFFLE - NO, MORE'S GOT IT! SWIPED BY FAIRFAX, SNEAKY FOX! SHE'S ROLLING OVER BROMLEY, PASSING OVER TO FLANNER AND SCORE! PUDDLEMERE DRAWS FIRST BLOOD, TEN-NIL!"_

"YES!" Oliver pumped his fist jubilantly. He signaled Benjy, who then made a pass around the pitch, with McBride's gaze following him around warily.

The Prides had passed midfield without incident, Oliver noticed with some irritation. Where were Neil and Phil? Hunching over, he looked Bromley straight in the eye as the Chaser made his way to the hoops. He ignored the cold air nipping at his eyeballs. Flanner knocked against Bromley roughly, causing him to counter with an awkward swivel. Seizing the opportunity, Oliver charged forward and stole the Quaffle, turning it over to Flanner at the edge of the scoring zone. Shouting his thanks, Flanner retreated with the rest of the squad.

_"SAVED YET AGAIN BY OLIVER WOOD! HE IS TWO FOR TWO TONIGHT AS PUDDLEMERE REGAINS POSSESSION!" _

So far so good.

* * *

><p><em>"Alright, Jim, thirty-four minutes into the match and Puddlemere has maintained a consistent lead with nine goals over Pride of Portree's four. What say you about the odds tonight?"<em>

_"You and I both know that Puddlemere is favored slightly to win, and they might do just that! The Iron Brothers are struggling to take out McBride, though they've easily dominated possession of both Bludgers. Meaghan McCormack took a nasty hit early in the match as well, care of Phil Wilson, and she seems to have suffered from it. McBride, however..."_

_"I agree McBride's a tricky one - and we're seeing a much more involved Seeker in today's game! But who knows if he can stay on that broom? Vinto and Starlin, both averse to winter and doing rather poorly both defensively and offensively for the Prides and - BANG! GOAL for Puddlemere! Davies with the ruthless charge - 100-40!"_

_"Head Coach Nolan rejoicing in their box. Prides' possession. Meaghan McCormack clutching her side - she's definitely hurt."_

_"Can't afford a break now - Puddlemere has been ruthless on the attack. Though the same can be said for the Prides, Oliver Wood on the other end is just too good!"_

_"Ever the perfectionist. He is back with a vengeance, ladies and gentlemen! It may just come down to a Snitch catch if the Pride of Portree is going to win tonight. Will McBride find it quick today? Hold on to your seats!"_

* * *

><p>"Merlin, did you see that!" Katie slapped Alicia's arm repeatedly as a poorly-hit Bludger careened past Oliver's head. In just over an hour of play, Puddlemere was up 140-60. Two of the six goals were due to lucky (or terrible) shots by the Prides' Beaters, and the rest were thanks to some disturbance from the Seeker, Dougal McBride. Regardless of the reason, and regardless of the many other goals he'd saved, Katie knew Oliver couldn't be happy about that.<p>

"Easy, Katie," Alicia winced. "They're doing fine! Look!" They watched as Phil Wilson regained the iron ball and hollered an apology at Oliver, while Isadora Fairfax mercilessly landed an elbow into the side of Vinto, the Beater responsible for the near blow. The man recoiled in pain. "Well, that'll be a foul."

The referee sounded the whistle, and More lined up to take the penalty. Faking left, and then trying for a right, he was unable to fool Oliver, who saved it easily, nostrils flaring and eyes ablaze. The fog from his breath in the cold night air surrounded his jubilant features to intimidating effect.

"Hah! Look at his face," cackled Alicia. "Wood always looks absolutely mad!"

"Hey, it's kind of cute," Katie allowed herself to grin.

"For a centaur, maybe."

The team was having a good night, as Katie predicted they would. By no means were the Pride of Portree a lousy team, but from what she could remember from the friendlies, they really had no new tricks up their sleeves. Oliver would have memorized their plays back and forth, she considered with pride.

Only one thing was new, she noted: she really didn't recall McBride being quite so involved. She had thought he was a detached type of Seeker, but tonight he was making active dives and swipes at the Puddlemere Chasers, getting in Oliver's way, and even colliding with the Beaters, who looked like they were enjoying the extra roughhousing anyway. She consoled herself with the thought that his interference was probably to his own detriment overall, considering he wasn't searching for the Snitch as Williams was. Also, Meaghan McCormack didn't seem to be doing so well -

"OH CRAP!" Alicia screamed. The crowd gasped in reaction as McBride, whom Katie had just been observing, suddenly crashed into Fairfax. The Chaser lost the Quaffle then, which was retrieved by an opportunistic Bromley as Davies and Flanner helped her back up on her broom. Bludgers flew, and missed, and Bromley had a clear shot at all three hoops. Katie held her breath.

_"SAVED - YET AGAIN! - BY OLIVER WOOD!" _hollered one announcer.

_"BY JOVE, HOW DOES HE DO IT!"_ shouted the other, sounding sincerely dumbstruck. _"HE IS ABSOLUTELY UNSTOPPABLE TONIGHT!"_

Alicia cheered. "You've got to hand it to Oliver," she shot Katie a sly look. "His playing is rather inspired today. I wonder why."

Katie only rolled her eyes. "Because he works his arse off!" She was confident that her presence had nothing to do with his performance. When it came to Quidditch, Oliver was always prepared. (Though it was nice to think that he might be playing even just a little bit better, just because she was there.)

* * *

><p>The game had kicked into high gear, Oliver felt, as the scuffles increased by the possession. He was beating himself up for allowing himself to be caught off-guard: he'd looked up for just a second towards their box, where Katie was watching, and before he realized it, a Bludger had bloody well near decapitated him.<p>

He struggled to keep up with everyone on the pitch, trusting his Beaters to do as they ought (though they hadn't taken out bloody McBride, who was being a pain in the arse), and mildly pressuring Benjy to find that Snitch. Davies had just helped Dora wrench the Quaffle out of Dean's hands by midfield, and the pair had rebounded it to Flanner down below to try for a goal. No good. The Prides regained possession quickly, and then flew directly into the stadium lights so he had to squint to see them. They successfully neared the scoring zone, this time, and right as Bromley made to pass or score, someone flew past Oliver, blocking his way and actually grazing him by a few hairs. McBride. _"OI!"_ he bellowed in frustration as the Quaffle flew into the rightmost hoop.

_"DEAN SCORES FOR PORTREE! 170-80, PUDDLEMERE!"_

McBride (_"Bastard," _Oliver thought) sneered at him, and it was all he could do not to whack the ponce with the damn Quaffle. He made to rebound it to Flanner, but in the corner of his eye, he saw Benjy dart towards what he guessed was the Snitch. The crowd, catching on, began to stand and scream, and here McBride wasn't even looking! As soon as McBride turned around and made to dart for the Snitch, Oliver flew after him and, without thinking, threw the Quaffle as hard as he could at the Seeker. He had to stifle a laugh as it hit its target, bouncing off McBride's head in a way he knew couldn't hurt as bad as a Bludger. "Merlin," he muttered, lacing his fingers together and cracking them. "That was satisfying."

The Seeker recoiled from the hit, slowing down considerably and sealing the deal for Benjy to make the easy catch. It felt almost anti-climactic, really.

_"AND IT'S WILLIAMS WITH THE SNITCH!"_ cried the announcer over the crowd's din. _"AFTER SOME SNEAKY BALL HANDLING FROM WOOD! PUDDLEMERE WINS, 320-80, AGAINST THE PRIDES AT TWO HOURS, THREE MINUTES!"_

"Really, Wood?" chortled Flanner over the audience's screams. "Real mature."

_"PUDDLEMERE NOW STANDS 1-1, WHILE THE PRIDES WILL HAVE TO WAIT TO REDEEM THEMSELVES FROM A 0-1 START. THIS HAS BEEN NOAH WINSOME!"_

_"AND THIS HAS BEEN JIMMY DUNIFER. GOOD NIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"_

"It isn't illegal," Oliver shook Flanner's hand, grinning. "We won!"

"Aye, we deserve to celebrate!" They flew towards their celebrating teammates, but were intercepted by a livid Dougal McBride.

"You _wanker_," he growled at Oliver. "I ought to-"

"Easy, easy, mate," Flanner placed his body in between the two. Oliver assumed a poker face as McBride shoved off and zipped away. "You'll get him next time!" Flanner laughed after the Seeker's retreating figure.

"Hey!" Oliver huffed.

"Serves you right for being a ponce," the Captain snickered, waving to some fans as the crowd stood up to leave. "Benj would have caught it anyway. Wave, Wood!"

"I was the ponce? McBride was flying like a right git!" Oliver raised his right arm, swinging it around carelessly. "Here I used to think he was decent."

"Smile for the girls, mate," Flanner ignored Oliver's gripe. "There we go. All the same, you're taking care of the press conference today, Mr. Wonderful. I have a fiancée to Floo-call."

Oliver let his eyes roam towards Puddlemere's spectator' box, where two slender figures stood and waited while the rest left. "I do feel pretty wonderful," he murmured to no one in particular.

* * *

><p>"Great game," Alicia said. "Well, maybe the Prides didn't do so well, but only because Ol was fantastic! And I'll have plenty to write in time for tomorrow's paper," she whispered the last bit giddily. "I can't wait!"<p>

"That's great, Leesh," Katie said. "Wanna attend the press con? It'll take maybe ten minutes."

"Sure. I'll go home right after, though. You have plans?"

"Yeah," Katie blushed beneath her glamour. "Guess I'll just congratulate Oliver, have a pint maybe, if he's up for it."

"_Sure_," Alicia grinned. By now they were outdoors, making their way past the throng and over to a more spacious area in the open field. Set up in the front of the building was the panel table, with PR people blasting sparks that read "PRESS CONFERENCE" and "FIVE MINUTES".

"Let's move closer," Alicia said. "I want to ask a couple of questions."

Katie agreed to follow her lead, but as they gave the crowd of fans and journalists a wide berth, she heard a loud _HOOT!_ and felt something drop on her head. Next thing she knew, she felt a tug at her navel and saw a horrified expression on Alicia's face that probably matched her own. She faded out with a scream.

* * *

><p>Puzzled and out of breath, Katie sat outside Lara Svityensky's office, trying to comprehend why and how she'd been unexpectedly whisked away to Holyhead, tackled by Martha the Security Witch, and then finally carted off to the Office of the General Manager. All, she marveled, in the span of maybe ten minutes. Groaning, she tried yanking her fake nose off, but the glamour held. Without her wand nor someone to help her remove it nearby, it was no use. "Ow, <em>shit<em>."

The door opened, and Clips stepped out and gave her a once-over. Curtly, she said, "Ms. Svityensky will see you now."

"Thanks, Amy," Katie mumbled. She stepped inside and found Lara and Coach King muttering feverishly to each other. "Uh, hi, Lara," Katie waved. "Long time no see?"

The pair whirled around to face her. "Who the bloody - _Bell!_" snapped Coach King in recognition.

"Sorry, it's just a glamour -" Katie began to explain.

"KATHERINE BELL." Lara looked absolutely crazed. "SIT. DOWN."

She had no choice but to obey, but she was still very much perplexed. "Is something the matter?"

"Where were you?" Lara said, struggling to level her voice. "Don't you know I was worried sick!"

"Oh! Er, I was just out, watching a game. Puddlemere United against the Pride of Portree? Nothing to worry about!"

"And just when did you plan on informing us that you were going to watch the bloody Prides?" Coach King growled.

"Whoa," Katie said, feeling affronted. "I'm sorry if you're upset. I was not aware that I wasn't allowed to watch our opponents' games in my free time."

"If it involves fraternizing with our opponents, then _yes_, it bloody well is -"

"It's not prohibited, Katie," Lara cut Coach King's rant short. "But right now I need to know what was running through your mind when you went out without security to watch this match."

Katie frowned. "Nothing was running through my mind. I just wanted to watch the game with a friend. No big deal. If it makes you feel better, I wore this glamour." She pointed at her face. "I can't even take the damn thing off because Martha took my wand!" Lara waved hers, and Katie felt relieved of the obstruction on her face. "Thanks," she mumbled, rubbing her real nose. "If you didn't know where I was, how did you find me?"

"Tracking owl, trained to drop Portkeys on its targets. You do know we have the right to trace players' and staff's wands in case anyone goes AWOL?"

"What?" Katie gaped.

"Did you not read your contract?" Coach King huffed. "You did a bloody dumb thing tonight, Bell."

Now Katie was beginning to feel the stirrings of irritation. "What did I do? Was I the only one out? I haven't even seen Lara for weeks, and tonight you needed me in? I'm sorry. With all due respect, Coach, I don't even know why you've summoned me here." Katie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "My friends will be worried about me."

"I apologize as well, Katie. I've just returned from London on some urgent business, and all your teammates' whereabouts had been accounted for, except you." Lara informed her.

"Why did you need to find me?"

"I'm sorry but I cannot divulge the reason at present. Who were you with? At the game?"

Katie shrugged, "Alicia Spinnet, one of my best friends from school."

"Who else? You said 'friends'."

"I was only watching with her," Katie grit out. "We were..." she sighed, before admitting, "Supporting Puddlemere. They won, by the way."

"Did they invite you there?" Lara pressed.

"Puddlemere? No, a friend gave us tickets."

"Who?"

"Wood?" drawled Coach King with derision.

Katie prickled defensively. "He's my friend." Coach King snorted.

"Did anyone speak to you? Deverill, their manager?"

"What? Why?"

"Katie!" Lara pinched the bridge of her nose and placed a hand on her hip. "Just answer the question. Please."

Katie fought down strong feelings of suspicion and exasperation. "No, I've never met their manager. Well, we saw him, but I don't think he'd have recognized me, anyway, thanks to the glamour."

Relief flooded Lara's features. "Oh. That's good, Katie. Very good."

Katie looked from the manager over to Coach King, who was now inspecting her nails in a bored fashion. "Okay. _Now_ may I ask why you're asking?"

Lara shook her head. "It's nothing you need to worry about right now."

"But -"

"I said it's nothing. Katie. Darling. I need you to go back to your lodgings."

Katie stood up. "Lara, you'd let us know if there was something going on, right?"

Coach King shot a loaded glance at Lara, who merely replied, "We're working on it, Katie. But for now I need you to be very careful when talking to people in the business, and when going out. I will not have you leaving here without Security. I promise to call a team meeting soon. Happy, Belinda?" she addressed Coach King.

The coach scoffed softly, before telling Katie, "Beat it, Rookie, before I give you hell tomorrow. You've got practice at 5 am. You shouldn't even be up at this hour."

Katie knew sticking around wouldn't be of any use, so she just nodded and stepped out, shutting the door behind her. Clips was nowhere in sight, but a wand - Katie's wand - sat on the secretary's desk with an all-clear note from Security. Taking it, she made to leave, but then she heard muffled voices arguing anew from behind Lara's door. Heart racing, she felt around her pockets for the Extendable Ears she'd taken from Alicia. "_Yes!" _Feelings of mild hypocrisy and paranoia rushed through her, but she didn't dwell too much on that. Sticking the hearing device into her own ear, she hurriedly cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and snuck back towards Lara's door.

"Don't be obtuse," came Coach King's drawl. "If you don't let me and my players know everything that's going on, then I'm going to tell them whatever I know anyway! Let them make of it what they will!"

"Belinda, you don't understand. I don't know where these threats are coming from, but it's two-pronged. If we can't pay these... these _extortionists_ the sum they're asking for, they're going to destroy our lineup and our franchise as we know it! I don't know who they are, I don't know how they'll do it, I don't know why -"

"That's exactly why we need to tell them. Did you see how confused the rookie was? This is their safety and freedom at stake. They deserve to know that somebody is making threats against us and them. What if one of them gets harmed?"

"I'm doing my best! As are other managers and owners. Similar demands have been made of a few other franchises, you know, and we've just alerted the Ministry."

"What kind of demands?"

Lara took a shaky breath. "Pay ransom or our girls will be harmed. Trade if we cannot pay. And if we do neither," her voice quavered, "Our players will be taken by force."

"What?" Coach King sounded incredulous. "And just what is bloody Ministry to do? Lara, they're busy rounding up Death Eaters. Unless you're saying..."

When Lara didn't reply, Katie's eyes widened. It couldn't be! "_Death Eaters?"_

"But," Coach King faltered. "The war -"

"You-Know-Who might be gone but that doesn't mean all his supporters have dispersed."

"You can't be serious. It could just be some internal saboteur."

"What I'm saying is that we aren't sure. Internally there's always been some dirty politics, but nothing to this extent. And it's all so fresh -"

"Why would these people even try? Why us?"

"I don't know. But I've been in commissioners' meetings with franchise owners and managers, and nobody in their right mind would demand this sort of ransom. What motives could they have?"

"Victory? Cash?"

"It's too small a goal for so large a demand. The Aurors themselves suggested it might be... you know. Those sort. They've got the funds of all affluent Purebloods sympathetic to You-Know-Who's cause on lockdown, so the remaining supporters might need to funnel money from somewhere."

"Merlin's saggy bollocks. You've got to tell the girls, Lara. Or I will."

"Give it some time. We could lose them. Belinda, we could lose our team. If not to these extortionists, then to other teams willing to make better offers for them!"

"Can we not pay?" Coach King had raised her voice. "We need to protect them!"

"And I agree! But we're also a business! Our pockets aren't infinite, you know. And I won't have people making better offers to my players that we can't match! I'm afraid of that, too. The damn bats, for instance, and the Tornados, have heaps of money."

"Who's to say it's not a scam? You haven't even bloody spoken to Whyte or Birch or any of those poncey owners -"

"Oh, yes I have!" retorted Lara.

"Is that so? Well if you've spoken to them and not found incontrovertible proof that any of them is our mystery extortionist, then clearly the problem is greater than rich bastards trying to pirate our players. Which, may I remind you, has never happened."

"Never say never," Lara muttered darkly. "Someone is actively trying to disrupt the delicate balance we've all just grown into. And our players would be up for grabs if we can't... Oh, Belinda, it's too much."

"But who do they want? The extortionists?"

Lara hesitated. "Jones. Griffiths. Grant. Bell," she mumbled miserably.

Katie gasped, and accidentally let go of her wand. It dropped to the ground with a clatter. _"Fuck!"_

"What was that?" Coach King growled. Katie grabbed her wand and ran as silently as she could behind the trophy case in a dark corner and prayed to whatever gods there were that she wouldn't be discovered. She held her breath as Coach King swung the door open.

"Probably some house elves," tittered Lara nervously. "Belinda, your nerves are shot. You'd better get some rest. The girls aren't the only ones who need to be up early tomorrow."

Coach King cast a suspicious glance in Katie's direction before sighing, "Alright. You, too. You look like you haven't slept in days." She departed, and Lara retreated back into her office.

Katie released her breath, and looked about her for a quick escape plan. Spotting a window, she climbed out of it, and quickly Apparated into her bungalow. In less a minute upon her arrival, she heard another _POP!_ of Apparition and a swift rap on her front door. Trying her best to appear composed, she answered it, already knowing who would be standing there. "Coach?" she greeted in what she hoped would be a surprised but casual tone. "Er, did you forget to tell me something?"

Coach King squinted as if she were trying to bore holes into her skull. "You take care of yourself, Rookie," she said brusquely, and marched away.

Shutting her door behind her in relief, she took a moment to let everything sink in. An extortionist... teams... names. Who could she tell abut what she'd learned? Would Oliver be affected? What about his team? Flanner? She had to tell them. She had to warn them! And Bruna and the girls! But she hadn't even found out what was at stake. Alicia had been right, but not completely.

_Alicia!_ Katie slapped her head. She was probably worried sick. They'd just moved round the crowd when the tracking bird had dropped the Portkey on her, and she hadn't had the chance to explain what had happened. She did not know where Alicia was, so she summoned her most vivid happy memory - winning the House Cup with her friends - and shot it out to Alicia with the message that she was alright. Her Patronus, taking the form of a silver puffin, shot out of her wand and through the night, and Katie hoped it would arrive intact.

Now she had to find a way to explain to Oliver where she'd gone. She was supposed to meet him after the game, and congratulate him on what had been a stellar performance in an equally convincing first win over the Prides.

Would he be looking for her? Had Alicia told him what had happened? Was that even possible?

Her first instinct was to check their journal for any sign of direct contact. There was nothing in there. She penned him a quick note to let him know she was alright. Next she tried Floo-calling him, but he wasn't home. She couldn't risk sending him another Patronus, lest the one she'd sent Alicia dissipate before it reached its destination. How did Patronus magic work, anyway? Katie didn't know. Harry didn't teach them that in their DA sessions. She checked Gwenog's cage, but Bootsy had let her owl out to hunt for the evening.

"This is crazy," Katie groaned. Out of options, she glanced at her clock. Nearly midnight. She nearly smacked herself when she remembered that they had agreed to meet at midnight in Oliver's apartment if they got separated, anyway. She gripped her wand, hesitating only as bits of Lara and Coach King's sermon and argument seeped into her mind. Still, she felt a greater need to see Oliver, and unload on him what she'd just learned. Making her decision, she Apparated away.

She landed in the familiar Puddlemere alleyway, bending her knees to absorbing the shock and minimize the noise. It was empty, so the team probably hadn't returned yet. She walked across the threshold of the alley and onto the main road. But in that same split second, she gasped loudly as she felt herself wrenched away into nothingness for the second time that night, and barely had time to panick when she realized body had reappeared right at the perimeter, but launched high up, twenty feet in the air. Before she knew it she was falling, falling...

All was black.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I always love writing the sweet bits between Katie and Oliver, but we can't fill our story with that now, can we? We're just getting started on all the action! If you liked this, please review :) Do Google Theo James and tell me what you think. Because when I saw him I kind of just lost all capacity for thought.**


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